


Finding Leon

by Azile_Teacup



Series: Meet Cute [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Established Relationship, Homelessness, M/M, Past Prostitution, past dub/con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-26 12:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azile_Teacup/pseuds/Azile_Teacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic in the 'Meet Cute' universe dealing with Leon and Agravain. I finally managed to get started on an idea I like :) the fic is unbetaed so any mistakes spotted need pointing out. It all starts with Arthur, a shopping list and embarrassment at having to buy... stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Another meeting

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: past homelessness, past prostitution, issues surrounding running away, mentions of child neglect and homophobia, past dub/con (the prostitution)

Arthur checks the shopping list again, but it says in big red letters. Right there. The dreaded item. He's got everything else, he could just go home and pretend he forgot. Only, he's done that the last three times and Meriln is determined that it's Arthur's turn and if Arthur doesn't get it he won't-

“Ooph!”

“Ow!”

Arthur looks up, rubbing his chest, to see who he's just walked into. He's still mostly thinking about lube and how embarrassing it is to buy it, the rest of his brain mulling over why he needs it and should definitely not forget it. The lovely things Merlin does with it. Which is the main reason he goes bright red and develops a stutter, suddenly thirteen again.

“D-D-Ducky!”

“My God, I haven't been called that in years. I go by Henrietta these days. Or Hen. Or Het at a push, but that's so heteronormative so I discourage- Arthur? No. No, it can't be. Sorry, mistook you for someone.”

“It is. I mean, Arthur. I mean it's me. I'm Arthur. I mean-”

“Arthur. You mean you're Arthur.”

“I do. I did. That's what I meant.”

Arthur really wishes Merlin was here to slap him out of this. 

“Well. Hi. Long time no see. How've you been?”

Whoring, homeless, big issue, Val, Myror, flat. Merlin. 

“I've been... good. Good enough. You?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just graduated! Last year. I'm interning at an- I studied architecture.”

Arthur can't help staring at her and bursting out laughing. 

“Hey!”

“I'm sorry, sorry. Just, you're dens were awful! I have reason to know. One fell on my head! I had a concussion! I'm not sure I'll trust your buildings.”

“Shut it, kid.”

“Not a kid!”

“You call me duck face, I call you kid.”

“Right. No Ducky. Henrietta.”

She laughs and Arthur gets a flashback to being fourteen.

*

Arthur's sitting on Leon's steps, wondering where his best friend is. He's feeling numbed over and wobbly, like he's slowly turning to jelly. Or cement. Something not human. His head hurts and he's pretty sure he has snot on his face. Agravain cooked him breakfast this morning. Or tried to. It was nice of him, but not even close to his father's luxury weekend breakfasts.

“Arthur. Hello.”

“Oh, Duck. Hi.”

“All right? Waiting for Leon? He's out.”

“Yeah.”

Arthur feels more tears threatening and scrubs at his face, smearing snot and damp tears over his cheeks. He feels Duck sit beside him and hears her sigh.

“You can come in to wait, you know.”

“Don't want to put you guyses out.”

“Oh yeah, Mum's always so pissy when you come over unannounced.”

Arthur blushes and grins. Leon's Mum loves him and bakes him cookies. His smiles fades, though, because he feels itchy all over.

“I dreamt about them. We were eating in the kitchen. I said 'you're dead', like it was normal to be eating with dead people. Dad said 'not any more'. And everything was right again. And then I woke up. And Agravain was offering me burnt cinnamon toast and a hard soft boiled egg that was half rotten from being in the fridge too long.”

Arthur sniffs hard and rubs at his eyes, but the skin around them is almost raw and it really hurts so he lowers his hands and pretends the tears aren't there. Duck sighs again and suddenly her skinny arms are wrapping around him, one elbow cradling his head and tugging it against her thin shoulder. It's incredibly uncomfortable but Arthur sags into the weird hug anyway because it's Duck and she's seen him puke from eating too many sweets and yelled at him for breaking her toys and thrown bananas and custard at him, so she's basically family.

*

“Such a waste of good custard.”

“Excuse me?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Just... drifting. What are you doing here?”

“Boring conference thing. Really very dull. But then I walked smack bang into you. Jesus Mary Joseph and all that, we were... Jesus Arthur.”

“Just Arthur these days. I dropped the Jesus.”

“You just took off! We couldn't find you! What the hell?”

Arthur gapes.

“Leon. Leon was... He still can't... What the hell were you thinking? If things were that bad, why didn't you come to us?”

Arthur snaps his mouth shut. He didn't go to the Knights because Leon... he closes his eyes, shoving that memory away and replacing it with Merlin grinning inanely.

“We searched. The police searched. Why didn't you ever tell is how bad it was? The police found stuff at yours. Like, Agravain's letters to your uncle Tristan and your weird diary thing and emails and messages and things.”

“It was just normal by the time it was that bad.”

“Except you ran away, so it wasn't normal.”

“He called me a whore. He said he hated me.”

“Um... so you decided not to come to the family who you knew since you were born?”

Arthur notices that Ducky's dropped the grown up, formal speech and her stance is more teenage than mid twenties professional. Even the tilt of her head is suddenly more familiar and Arthur wishes that he had gone to her.

“No. Leon. Leon called me... said...”

“What? He- what?”

“Can we not? Not here. I have to- um, finish shopping.”

Arthur remembers what he's shopping for and blushes again, feeling awkward and gangly and out of sorts.

“Okay, okay. Yeah. Can I see you before I go home? And can I tell Leon?”

“No! I mean, yes to the first, no to the second. I can't... I don't... I can't deal with that yet.”

“Yet? Deal with? Arthur, he's been worried for nearly six years.”

“I can't. I can't. I can't.”

Arthur feels a bubble of what he has come to recognise as panic rising in him at the thought of Leon turning up on his doorstep. He looks around, desperate for Merlin to appear out of thin air and make it easy to breathe again.

“Okay, okay. No Leon. Yet. Okay. Give me a phone number and an address and tell me a time and day.”

“Tonight. At seven. I'll write the stuff on... something.”

“Here. Diary.”

Arthur takes the pen and pocket sized diary she holds out and scribbles Merlin's number and flat address on it before starting to back away. He needs to find Merlin. Now. He needs Merlin.

“I... see you later. I have to... shopping. Bye.”

He turns and skips into a jog and then speeds up until he's running wildly, carrier bag slapping into his leg and leaving bruises as he hurtles down the street and round the corner, up the hill and left, right straight away, across the park and over the street and through the ally to bang on Merlin's door, forgetting the key Merlin gave him last week as a month's anniversary present and just hitting the door until it gives way to a familiar chest and then he flings himself past Lance and up the stairs, gasping for breath, and into Merlin's flat.

“Arthur! Wow, entrance. Hi.”

Merlin kisses his nose and takes the bag from him, disappearing into the kitchen. Arthur curses himself for running everywhere (to prove he can because his lungs are much better and he's getting stronger, even if Merlin can still carry him bridal style without problem. Merlin's freakishly strong anyhow) because now Merlin has no idea anything's wrong and Arthur has no breath to tell him and Ducky's coming and, oh-

“You forgot the most important thing!”

-he forgot lube.

“Arthur! It's not that embarrassing. Just walk in, pick the one we like, go to the counter and pay. No one's going to question you. It's not some-”

“I ran into Leon's sister. Or walked. Smack bang. As she said.”

“What? The duck girl?”

“Yeah. Hen. Het. Henrietta.”

“Lance, can you put this stuff away? Leave the ice cream out. We'll be needing that in a bit.”

“I can go.”

“No, I think... I think stay actually. I'm not... I think he's about to panic. Might help to have a doctor on hand. Personal medical care and all. His lungs still fuck up now and then.”

“Call if you need me.”

Arthur listens to the exchange with a detached awe, wondering when his life became Merlin and Lance and Gwaine, Percy and Elena. Instead of Freya and Val and Myror and filth and illness and hopeless wandering for something better. 

“Merlin.”

“Right here.”

Arthur opens his eyes, realising he shut them, and Merlin is indeed right there. They're nose to nose and Arthur goes cross eyed to see Merlin's gentle smile, and then Merlin's hands are strong and sure on his biceps and he's being manhandled to the sofa.

“Water?”

“No.”

“Okay. What happened?”

“I was walking. Getting up the courage to get the stuff so you could do all the fun dirty things I like and then I was smacking into Duck and it was really embarrassing because there she was, my almost-sister, watching me while you stuck your finger-”

“Lalala!”

Arthur laughs as Lance leans between them and pushes a cup of hot tea into his hand.

“Drink it. I'll cook something. Ice cream after dinner, you know this.”

“God, you're such a parent!”

Lance puffs up with pride and strutts back to the kitchen.

“When does Gwen pop? I can't wait for him to have a real baby so he doesn't keep substituting me.”

“Soon. It's due. What happened next? After my finger and your almost sister.”

“We talked. Normally. Like old acquaintances. And then... um, I drifted. Was thinking about her hugging me. And then she was talking about Leon and why I left and why I didn't go to them and why didn't I tell them it was so bad and why did I run and Leon's all messed up and it's all my fault and Duck hates me and Agravain- I think he's in prison, actually.”

“Good. The prison thing, not the rest. Shh. Breathe.”

Arthur matches his breathing to Merlin's and relaxes a little bit.

“Good. That's it. Easy now.”

“Not a horse.”

Merlin laughs and Arthur relaxes some more.

“So, she wants answers. Don't you? I mean, weren't you thinking of asking her a ton of similar questions? Why she didn't help, why she never saw, why she took Leon's side, why she didn't find you?”

“No!”

Merlin raises an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

Merlin nods and reaches out to rub his arm.

“Okay. So it was a reaction, a build up of years of curiosity and worry. Because she cares about you.”

“No.”

“Bet you she does.”

“I can't... I can't tell her. This.”

Arthur rubs his prominent ribs.

“Okay. We'll tell her you had a badly paying job.”

“Yeah. Lie to her. That's a good idea. I'm brilliant at lies, I am.”

Merlin snorts and Arthur grins.

“Drink your tea. It doesn't matter, we'll change the subject or tell her we're not talking about that. So don't worry.”

“I don't know how to explain why I didn't go to them. They were family. I just... didn't.”

“You were fifteen and terrified, you weren't thinking.”

“I guess.”

“Are you really nineteen? Hey! I can ask her! Oh, she's going to have loads of stories about you. I bet they're brilliant!”

“No. No!”

Merlin laughs and rubs his hands together happily. Ever since Will brought over an album of photos, all featuring Merlin in some embarrassing costume or pose (collected over the years for future partners, expressly to embarrass) Merlin's been trying to find similar dirt on Arthur.

“Finish your tea and then well eat, then we'll nap, then we'll sort this.”

“Oh! Oh no! She's coming!”

“What? When? Are you meeting here somewhere?”

“She's coming here! At seven! I gave her your number in case she gets lost!”

“Oh. Right. Okay. We'll nap and then I'll make a light dinner and-”

“No, no naps. No. She can't come. You call her, Merlin, tell her you don't want to meet her.”

“I don't have a number.”

“But-”

“You can stay in the bedroom. I'll tell her you're not well. Wouldn't be much of a stretch.”

Arthur takes a deep breath and stops panicking.

“No. I'll see her.”

“Lance has made sandwiches, we'll eat and then decide.”

Arthur nods and Merlin smiles, a little sad, and brushes the sweaty fringe out of Arthur's eyes. Lance comes over with a plate of sandwiches and places it on the coffee table before kneeling in front of them.

“Are you breathing okay? Other than the panic?”

“Yeah, lungs are working great.”

“I think I'll take off, in that case. You know you can call if you need anything.”

“Sure, see you Friday?”

“Pizza and Gwaine's dirty jokes. Yup. Friday. Bye guys.”

Lance leaves and Merlin makes Arthur eat a sandwich. He's not really hungry but once he's eaten it he does feel a little better. A little less shaky. Merlin still makes him lie down in bed and curls around him, arms wrapping him in safety. Arthur's a bit embarrassed as that passes through his head. Safety. Except, it had been so long since he felt safe and then Merlin was there and safety is just so-

“Stop thinking. Let yourself sleep. I'll be here, if you have a dream I'll wake you, I won't be gone when you wake up, I'll be right here.”

“Okay.”

Arthur closes his eyes again and drifts a bit, thinking about Ducky. Thinking about Leon.

*

“Ew! Stop snogging in my living room!”

“It's my living room too, duck face.”

“I do not have a duck face!”

“You do. All duckish, you are.”

Arthur watches Leon and Hen bickering, a yawn creeping out of him. When the bickering doesn't stop he wanders out to the kitchen in search of cookies. There are probably some stashed somewhere. Leon's mum turns and smiles at him, derailing his search.

“Arthur. Are they fighting again?”

“Uhuh.”

Arthur tries to sneak along the counter to get to the cookie jar without her noticing.

“No cookies. I'm making tea. Why don't you have a piece of fruit?”

Arthur makes a face and scuffs his toe, pulling out the puppy dog eyes that usually work. 

“Please? They're such good cookies.”

“You can have a Clementine. No cookies. We'll have those with ice cream for desert.”

Duck comes in and smacks Arthur round the head, gently. Much more gentle than she used to before the crash and Agravain and Leon being his boyfriend.

“Ow!”

“Leon says it was your idea to steal my heels!”

“It.... might have been. We just wanted to try them, we didn't mean for them to break. Flimsy things.”

“Mum!”

“Arthur, don't steal Henrietta's things.”

“Sorry Mrs. Knight.”

Suzie snorts, because Arthur only calls her 'Mrs. Knight' when he's trying to talk his way out of trouble, but she does wave them off.

“Go play.”

Arthur nods and gets out before he can get into more trouble, grabbing Leon by the elbow and hurtling up the stairs to Leon's bedroom. Leon follows, stumbling to keep up, and when he trips through the door Arthur kisses him and reaches out to touch. Because he can now.

*

“Shhh. Oh, Arthur. God. C'mon, it's okay.”

Arthur realises he's crying and Merlin's rubbing his back and he's at home, with Merlin. Leon's not there and won't be there any time soon. He breathes carefully and sniffs, rubbing his nose in Merlin's shirt. Merlin keeps up the soothing litany of nothings and Arthur feels himself start to doze. Merlin's hands are warm on him and Merlin's body is solid against his and Merlin's breath is comforting in his hair and he's safe and sleep takes over with a whoof of relief and satisfaction. 

When he wakes Merlin's not there. But Merlin's stuffed bear is in Arthur's arms, so he doesn't panic. It became a thing after Merlin got up to make breakfast, leaving Arthur sleeping, and had to go out to buy eggs. He'd got home to find Arthur wild and pacing, yelling at Lance over the phone and generally being crazy because he'd thought Merlin was gone. Merlin had laughed at him, soothed him and fed him before promising. He'd dug out the bear and said it was a promise. If he was gone, he'd leave the bear with Arthur. That way Arthur would know he was coming back. 

Arthur yawns and stretches, feeling better than when he went to sleep. He feels calmer. He gets up and pads over to the door, still holding the bear absently playing with an ear. When he opens the door a crack he hears voices and freezes, listening.

“I'm sure he'll get up in a bit, I'll wake him.”

“Okay. Are you sure it's just a headache? He used to get migraines.”

“I'm sure. Just needed a nap.”

“Well, if you're sure. I... I talked to my brother.”

“Ah.”

“I didn't tell him I saw Arthur. I didn't tell him anything, really. He still misses Arthur. And he's always been guilty and ashamed of something. I never knew what, I always thought it was just because he didn't manage to help. I asked him, today.”

“Oh?”

“He said they had a fight. That he said... things. I know that it made Arthur feel like he had to run, but Leon was only sixteen. He's patient and gentle but even he has a temper. He was hurt and afraid and it was the only time he broke and the only time he couldn't hold back. He shouldn't have said it, but I'm not going to blame him for- he was sixteen years old and dealing with... it's not Arthur's fault, but it's not entirely Leon's either.”

“There's no need to defend yourself or explain.”

“But there is, because you look at me like I'm a villain.”

“Sorry. I am sorry. I don't mean to. It's just because he was hurt and he didn't deserve it.”

“No, I guess not.”

“He knew. He knew that Agravain would say things and that Leon would believe it. He once asked Leon what he should do when Leon believed Agravain's lies and left him. We shouldn't be talking about him. I'm going to go see if he's awake. Have a seat, help yourself to... I don't actually have much to offer. Dinner will be ready in a few.”

Arthur scurries back to bed, scrambling under the covers so he's not caught eaves dropping. He's not sure what to make of what he's heard. It's not anything he hasn't heard from Merlin, but it's odd having people talk about him like he's not there. Well, he wasn't there so he guesses it was fine. He doesn't feel hurt by their talk or defensive. Merlin pushes the door open and raises an eyebrow at Arthur. 

“Eavesdropping?”

“No! What?”

“You didn't shut the door.”

“Oops.”

“Are you feeling better?”

Merlin does shut the door, which Arthur had indeed forgotten to do, and comes over to sit on the bed, hand resting on Arthur's stomach.

“Better. A lot, actually.”

“Ready to face her?”

“Yes. I think... she's right. It was just a fight, with Leon. It shouldn't have happened, but it shouldn't have been as important as it was.”

“I know.”

Arthur sighs and yawns again, sitting up and wrapping an arm around Merlin's neck a moment before standing. 

“Do you really want Bramwell to eat with us?”

Arthur realises he's still clutching the bear and places him gently on the bed, rubbing his soft ears. Merlin pats his bum and stands too, leading the way out to the living room. Ducky's sat there, phone in hand, texting someone. She starts when they walk in and smiles.

“Arthur. Hello.”

She stands and then shifts awkwardly, as if unsure of what to do. Her uncertainty settles Arthur and he steps around Merlin, hand drifting over Merlin's back unconsciously, and takes Henrietta's hand.

“Hello. It's good to see you, despite everything.”

“Yes. You, too. We missed you.”

“I'll go check dinner.”

Arthur and Henrietta sit, silence spreading between them. Henrietta keeps shifting and opening her mouth before shutting it again and stilling.

“It's okay to talk about it.”

“I don't know what to say. I've been angry and upset at you for years. You just left.”

“It wasn't my best decision, I know. I was afraid and confused and really, really tired though. I thought Leon hated me and Agravain did hate me and he was trying to force me to be someone I never had to pretend to be before. And my parents were always dead.”

“Okay.”

“I am sorry I didn't go to you. I miss your Mum's cookies.”

Ducky laughs and flicks her hair out of her face, relaxing a little bit.

“She still does. She calls them Arthur Cookies and Leon always refuses to eat them.”

Arthur stills at the mention of Leon. It's so casual. As if Leon still exists. 

“Sorry.”

“You can talk about him. I don't expect you not to.”

“But it hurts, when I do?”

“A bit. It's fine.”

“Do you want to know about him?”

Arthur thinks about that. About what Leon's doing now, whether he finished college, what he studied if he went to uni, what he's like, if he's changed. Thinks about everything he knew about Leon. Before he can decide whether he wants to know he finds himself breathing out a 'yes' and once it's out there he can't take it back, he can only look at his knees and clutch the sofa cushion.

“He finished college. Just about. He was a complete mess, though, and he didn't get the marks he wanted. He got an apprenticeship working with a nursery and did an NVQ in childcare. He runs a day care centre.”

Arthur laughs. Leon runs a day care centre. It doesn't fit with the Leon he knew, the one obsessed with fitness and physical activities, good grades and neatness. Arthur would have guessed business man or something equally innocuous.

“He loves the children. He finds it... he doesn't really do dating. He has friends and I'm sure he isn't celibate, but he's not looking yet. I think the children are his way of creating a family around himself.”

“Oh.”

“He's still a neat freak. He plays rugby and football at the weekends, helps coach the local kids' football team. He listens to classic rock and eats a lot of chicken.”

Arthur smiles at that. He used to feed Leon chicken after an argument, as an apology.

“He's not happy, but he's not unhappy. I'm sure he'd be glad to hear you're okay, but I won't push. Even though he's my brother and I want him to- never mind. I won't push.”

“Dinner's ready, if you'd like to come through.”

Arthur breathes a sigh of relief. He's really not ready to deal with seeing Leon, not even to explain why he doesn't want to see Leon. He gets up and goes to the dining room, Ducky at his back. He stops in the doorway though as his stomach makes a weird noise. He bites his lip. He still has trouble sometimes, eating regular meals. Today he's had a big breakfast, a solid lunch and that sandwich. As well as the snacks Merlin's always getting him to eat. The idea of eating a big dinner makes him anxious. If he eats everything today there won't be anything tomorrow. 

“Henrietta, won't you take the head of the table? As our guest, the seat of honour is yours.”

Merlin distracts Henrietta with bowing and pulling out her chair and being generally ridiculous while Arthur deals with his little freak out. Arthur sits, still feeling a sense of dread about tomorrow but it's manageable now. After seeing Merlin so light hearted and remembering that Merlin will look after him his worries seem silly. Merlin looks relieved when Arthur sits. It's sometimes harder to get him to eat. Arthur's getting heavier but he's still not a healthy weight and Merlin is always worry worry worrying about it. 

“So, Arthur tells me you knew him for a long time when you were both younger?”

“Yes. He went to nursery with my brother and Leon and he were toddling about under my feet from the age of three or so. They were very annoying.”

“I'm sure they were. I'm also sure you have stories?”

Arthur groans at Merlin's eager, questioning face. He knows that Merlin won't let Duck get out of here without stories. She raises an eyebrow, though, asking his permission, and Arthur smiles instead of groaning again. It's a thrill, having some kind of family for Merlin do this with. He's met Will and he's talked to Hunith on the phone. She sends him extra warm pyjamas and hand knitted socks and talks to him about art and literature. So Arthur nods to Henrietta and listens to a re-hash of his childhood, told through the eyes of an annoyed older sister-type-person. It's funny and embarrassing and everything a family meal should be. 

Later, they get on to Arthur's parents' death and Merlin ends up crying ridiculous tears and being a complete girl and Arthur laughs at him and wipes his snot up and knuckles his scalp through his hair and grinning at Henrietta where she's sat, serene and sad. And then they get on to his and Leon's relationship and it's Ducky crying, crying because looking back at happy times makes her see how broken her brother is. Or Arthur assumes that's why she's crying, she doesn't explain it. Just excuses herself for a bit. And then there's the leaving bit and Arthur cries, leaning against Merlin. It's late by then and he's tired and Merlin's tired and Hen looks tired and they all take a deep breath and Arthur just blurts it out.

“I was fifteen. I didn't have much money. I didn't find a job, couldn't find a place to live. I tried the kids' shelter but they were full most nights. And you had to pay. I was... I was homeless. Until someone suggested the Big Issue to me. Then I lived in a dump with a drug dealer junkie and his terrifying boyfriend. They were good to me, though. And then I met Merlin.”

“What? But... I thought... you were homeless?”

“Yes.”

“Oh god. Arthur! Why couldn't you have just called?”

Arthur feels angry suddenly. Instead of the sadness and the fear and the crippling anxiety he's furious. With himself, with the world, with the people who paid him for things he hated and the people who paid him for magazines as if they were saving him and the nights he cowered in the park or on the street, penniless and alone and so, so scared.

“I was a child! I didn't understand what had happened! One moment I'm a normal kid, two parents, a best friend I fancied, I had everything. And then, bam. It's gone. I have a boyfriend and an uncle who hates me and hate gay people and... Leon hated me, as far as I knew. As far as I knew you all thought I had been the whore he accused me of being. And then, by the time I realised I had been stupid, I WAS that whore. And I was dirty and stupid and couldn't break out of the- homelessness doesn't do much for self esteem. I hated you all! I didn't want to go back and have you look down at me and pity me and Agravain and-”

Merlin's hands are on his shoulder and cupping his neck, squeezing gently until Arthur meets his eyes. He realises he's standing, yelling into Henrietta's face. He steps back, tugging away from Merlin's hands, and tries to escape. 

“Self pitying, selfish child.”

Arthur freezes.

“You think that you have the corner on suffering? I'm sure you had it bad. But didn't you think once that maybe you should trust us? Maybe you should have thought less of yourself and more about the boy you profess to have loved. Leon needed you, for once he needed you rather than the other way round and you ran. You were a coward.”

“Hey, enough.”

“I get that you were young, but so was Leon. So he made a mistake, so you made some bad decisions, so you didn't have the courage to come home and see if we were okay. I can get over that, I can. I wish you'd not do it now, though. Now you're old enough to know better.”

“I think that's enough.”

Merlin's hand is on his shoulder again but Arthur pulls away. He can't let her tell Leon. Leon can't know.

“He can't know.”

“Arthur, I know. Don't-”

“He can't know what I am. He can't know what I've done. I don't want him to judge me. I don't want him to know I'm a coward. I don't want to see him again. I can't see him again. I can't. I can't. I can't see him.”

Merlin sighs.

“Can you please stop now? This isn't helping anyone.”

“I can't see him. I don't want to see him. I can't. I can't bear it.”

“Can't bear what, exactly? Making his life easier? Reassuring someone you're supposed to love?”

“He can't bear to see Leon because he's afraid of seeing the hatred and disgust in Leon's eyes that he's faced with from so many people. I don't want you to keep up this conversation. Enough. Arthur, sit down. She won't ask again. She won't tell Leon.”

Arthur trusts Merlin, so he sits. Henrietta is gaping at them, a mixture of anger, sadness and regret on her face. She snaps her mouth shut and takes a deep breath.

“Of course. I apologize. I won't tell him. One thing, though. He doesn't hate you. But, Merlin's right. Enough. Tell me what you're doing now?”

Arthur lets Merlin's hand stay on him this time, resting on his thigh. 

“I work for the Big Issue and I'm doing an evening course for my A-levels. I mostly make people tea and coffee, clear up, do some typing.”

“Tell her about your promotion type thing.”

“Oh yeah. I go around the vendors, with a mentor. We talk to them, ask about selling styles, find out what works. We offer support and make sure they're not drowning.”

“Drowning?”

“Oh. Um, that's my word. I mean that they're not... when you're out there, there's nothing and no one. People don't really talk to you. You're made to feel less than human. We try and counter act that.”

“It sounds like a good job.”

“Yes, it is. I volunteer at this place, too. Wednesday evening. It's this art group I used to drop in on. I go and sit, draw and talk to people. It's nice. I can't invite the people I know from then here or to my flat because- for reasons, so we meet there. It's a nice space.”

The calmer atmosphere has Merlin relaxing at Arthur's side, though Arthur stays on guard. It seems that the semi-awkward talking is what Merlin was after, though, so he keeps telling Henrietta little pieces of his life until Merlin stands and brings an end to the evening. Henrietta kisses Arthur's cheek and rubs a thumb across his cheekbone before leaving and then Merlin shepherds Arthur to bed and wraps him up in safety again, so he can sleep.

They meet Henrietta three more times before she leaves for home. Merlin always goes with Arthur and he always steers the conversation away from telling Leon. Arthur's grateful. He enjoys Hen's company and when she leaves he finds himself not relieved, but sad. He'd forgotten, in all the fuss over Leon, how much he liked her. He'd missed Leon's family in a general way but now he's going to miss Hen specifically. They say goodbye with a simple hand shake and promise to keep in touch, and then she's gone. 

“Are you okay?”

“No. Can we go to mine, wallow in the splendour of my rise from the gutter?”

If Merlin notices the bitterness he ignores it. Arthur trudges beside him, half listening to Merlin babble. Mostly he's berating himself for being a coward and not going to the Knights for help. He feels like a fool and as if he brought his gutter living on himself. He dislikes feeling stupid so he kicks at a stone and shoves his hands into his pockets, scowling at passers by.

“Aw, that one was just a little girl. Lighten up a bit!”

“What?”

“You're death glaring at everyone, including the little girl who waved at you.”

Arthur turns back to look but the girl's gone. He nudges Merlin with his shoulder, sending him into a wall, and keeps walking.

“Oi! Oaf.”

“I'm barely a wisp of a thing.”

“Stop quoting my Mum. She's never met your fat self, what does she know?”

Arthur ignores Merlin's continued muttering about fat prats with no regard for human decency and speeds up, stalking down the pavement. They make it to his pathetic hole of a flat in record time and Arthur doesn't bother to get his keys out, he just jimmies the lock on the street door and stomps up the stairs past the neighbours' little boy (sitting on the step playing with his cars) and to his peeling front door. He looks at the paint and punches it. 

“Hey! Stop that. Stop. Lucas is watching you, for one thing. For another, what has the poor door ever done to you?”

“It exists.”

Merlin shoves him out of the way and unlocks the stupid door. Arthur sighs and steels himself for the dark livingroom. It had seemed so great when he looked at it first, but now it just feels like another failure. His A-level texts are on the kitchen table, another failure. Most people his age are graduating uni next year and here he is working on his a-levels still. His pay slip is among the post on the floor and that's almost something to be proud of. He helps people, makes things better for them. He does a good thing for that money. 

“Hot chocolate?”

“I don't have any. I don't think I have much in the way of food or drink, actually. I think there's a four pack of baked beans in the cupboard and a loaf of bread in the freezer.”

“You said you didn't need groceries!”

“That'll last a few days.”

Arthur hangs his coat on the lovingly hung hooks, picking up Merlin's from the floor where Merlin dumps it and hanging it up too. Then he puts both their shoes on the shoe shelf Percy and Gwaine helped him build under the coat hooks and straightens it all carefully. He might live in a hole but he'll keep it clean and tidy. He straightens and looks at the giant poster of some nature scene he found on the train, probably from a magazine, at the glass table from the dump, the mismatched chairs that came with the flat. He takes in the squashed armchair someone left on the street and the beautiful lampshade, middle eastern by the looks of it, from Lance as a house warming gift. 

“God I'm pathetic.”

“What?”

“Look around you, Merlin! Look how I'm living!”

“What's wrong with it? Don't you like the picture? We could probably find a different one if you're tired of that.”

“No. It's not the picture. Well, it is. And the mismatched chairs, the dump table, the- it's all crap. Everything I own is crap.”

“What about the lampshade? The shoe shelf? The bookcase in the bedroom? The kettle and the tea towels in the kitchen? The shower curtain?”

“I didn't buy any of that!”

“You made it. Or had it gifted.”

“Exactly. There you go.”

Arthur tries to push past Merlin but Merlin's still bigger than him and can easily stop him, lifting him off the ground and squeezing until Arthur squawks. 

“Stop it! Let go!”

“No. I won't. I won't let go until you realise you're wrong.”

“I'm not wrong.”

“Yes you are. You've been working for a month. A month, Arthur. It'll take a few more until you can afford anything and maybe more than a year before you feel you've achieved anything, knowing you. Things take time. You're doing fine.”

“I'm such an idiot. Why'd I run?”

“Because you were scared. Don't let Henrietta tell you any different. You are no coward, Arthur. She's wrong. Very, very wrong. She doesn't know, she can't understand. You were alone and you were cornered and you made a choice. She can't change that and she shouldn't try to cheapen it.”

“You're an idiot.”

“I am.”

“But sometimes...”

“Yeah.”

“Will you let go of me now?”

“Are you going to put the light on and make me hot chocolate?”

“I only have-”

“Oh yeah. I think we should go to Tesco tomorrow.”

“You hate Tesco.”

“It's cheap. And easy. I do hate it, but sometimes it's too tiring to go trailing around the Independents finding the bargains.”

“Okay. I hope you don't mind baked beans on toast and fruit squash for dinner?”

“For tonight. In future, try buying something a little healthier, a little more sensible?”

“Sure. I wasn't thinking. I can't... it's hard. To remember I'll have more money in two weeks. I still think this'll be the last of it and I'd better make it last.”

“Tell you what, ask Mum about budgeting next time she calls. She'll give you tips and help you draw up a chart, then you'll know exactly what you're spending where and how much it all is.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yes. It would, to you. It's pure hell to normal people like me.”

“Right. You know I'm not actually a tidy person, or a neat freak or anything?”

“Yes, I know. Only at your house. I've seen the state of my bedroom after you've stayed there a while.”

Arthur grins and Merlin finally lets him stand on his own feet, lets him go. He follows Arthur to the kitchen though and sits on the counter as Arthur heats the beans and toasts the bread, eyes following Arthur carefully. They eat quietly and listen to the radio, Arthur reading a text absently and Merlin lying with his feet in Arthur's lap playing on his phone.


	2. Chapter Two- Merlin's Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Merlin's turn to meet someone rather unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: homelessness, past prostitution, possible child neglect/abuse (past, nothing too graphic)

“Do you think I should let Hen tell Leon?”

“Not until you're ready to deal with him. Have you talked to your counsellor about this?”

“No. Bloody useless woman. Doesn't know what she's on about.”

“What did she do to piss you off this time?”

“She keeps trying to put me on anti-psychotics. I'm not bloody psychotic. Just a little... wobbly sometimes.”

“Okay.”

“And when I told her about you and about us and this and all that? She said it was an unhealthy reaction. That I'm dependant on you. That I latched onto the first hint of safety.”

“Well, she's dumb.”

“Like I said.”

“I guess we should look. Again. Third time lucky and all.”

“Fourth. I tried the guy James suggested.”

James. Arthur's boss. The man Arthur hero worships. Merlin grins.

“Your husband?”

“He's my boss you imbecile, not my husband.”

“Well, if wishes were-”

“You're such a pain!”

Arthur dives at Merlin and Merlin dodges, laughing as he's caught anyway and pressed against Arthur's skinny chest.

“I talked to Hen last night. She rang. Because Leon was... I don't know. She wouldn't say. She was upset and he was there.”

“Did you hear him?”

“No. I think he was asleep.”

Merlin rubs his knuckles over Arthur's scalp, softening it to a massage after he gets the desired squeal of protest. Arthur snickers lightly in a sign of contentment and leans against Merlin, shoving his hands into Merlin's jeans pockets. 

“My pockets.”

“But I'm all yours too, so it doesn't matter.”

Merlin laughs. 

“Sap.”

“Imbecile.”

“Do you want to let Leon know?”

“I don't know. Would he come and shout at me for leaving? What if he hates me?”

“I don't think he'll shout. Or hate you. I think you've built up his hate in your head and now it's all you see when you think of Leon. I think he was a scared teenager and he made a mistake, but I think he loved you. From what you've said.”

And from what Henrietta's said to Merlin over the phone, tearful from dealing with Leon and Arthur. She calls him sometimes and tells him about Leon, about how much he blames himself and about how he punishes himself for loosing Arthur, though he carries on living. Something about a promise he forced Arthur to make that he ought to live by himself. Merlin doesn't tell Henrietta the promise he's pretty sure Leon means. 

“I think I want him to know. But I don't... I don't want to face him. Yet.”

“But he can know you're okay?”

“I think so. It's been a month, I'm used to the idea of him being out there. Knowing.”

“We can call Henrietta later.”

“Or now?”

“Before you chicken out, huh? Okay.”

“I do not chicken out of things!”

Merlin grins and goes to get the phone. He listens to Arthur's unsteady words and tentative shyness with Henrietta and wonders if Arthur used to be confident with her. What he was like before everything happened to him. Was he ever innocent and stupid? Merlin imagines he was a right stuck up prig at some point. He smiles at the idea and goes to sit by Arthur, who's moved on to talking about the upcoming six nations and bickering about who's going to win. And Merlin gets to catch a glimpse of how he was. 

“Okay. She wants to talk to you, Merlin. She's so annoying! She thinks Scotland stand a chance! Scotland! Wooden spoon, I'm telling you.”

“Give.”

Arthur gives the phone and watches, eyebrow raised. He clearly knows Henrietta wants to talk about him and isn't letting Merlin do the same.

-Hello Merlin-

“Hiya.”

-Are you sure about this? He was so adamant. What changed?-

“Yeah, I know. He would think that about rugby, though.”

-Oh, is he sat there monitoring?-

“Yes! I keep telling him.”

“Don't gang up on me, no fair.”

-Ah. Well, are you sure? About telling Leon?-

“Yes.”

Merlin is sure. Arthur needs to know Leon doesn't hate him, that the past is not going to kill him.

-Okay. Leon!-

“Now? Over the phone?”

-No, just teasing you. I think I need... it might take time. I have to do it carefully so he doesn't come and hunt you guys down.-

“Oh. Yeah, don't let that happen.”

-Yeah. Well, I'll go dig him out and see what I can do. I'll let you know by the end of the week what's going on.-

“Okay.”

-bye. Tell the kid not to worry. Leon's a big teddy bear and he doesn't 'do' hate.-

“I will. Bye.”

“Well, what did she want to say about me and did I put a stop to it?”

“She just wanted to make sure you were certain.”

Merlin doesn't bother telling Arthur about the teddy bear. Arthur knows, it's not a rational fear. It's the kind of fear that eats you up at midnight and wakes you crying. 

“Good. I am.”

“I know.”

Arthur nods and then checks the time, realises he's going to be late for work and crashes out of the flat in his socks. He crashes back in a few seconds later muttering about Merlin's stupid new 'no shoes' rule to get his shoes. Merlin doesn't bother pointing out it's an old rule Arthur only started following when Merlin threatened to never make him pancakes again if he didn't. Instead he leans against the wall and watches happily as Arthur bends to do his laces. 

Henrietta calls on a Friday. Merlin's just got in from work, Arthur's burning toast in the kitchen and not noticing because he's doing some maths problem that has him swearing in French. 

“Such a posh boy.”

“Shut up. Summers in France visiting uncle Tris. Not posh. Help with this!”

“I can't do a-level maths. Scratch that, I can't do GCSE maths.”

“Fine.”

Merlin laughs at the tufts of hair sticking up around Arthur's head and goes to take the toast out of the grill (if they'd been at Merlin's there would have been nice, un-burnt toast from the toaster. But no, Arthur comes here now to avoid the shoe rule). Which is when Merlin's phone rings. 

“Yeah? Can you wait a sec?”

-No! Merlin, I tried! I thought I had managed, but he's not here!-

“What? Who's that?”

-It's duck face! And Leon is gone!-

“Gone?”

-to find Arthur, you stupid man. He's on his way to you! And has been for a while, we only just noticed he's gone but he skipped work this morning!-

“He doesn't have the address, though.”

-Do you remember that letter Arthur wrote to me?-

“You showed it to Leon!?”

-No. But it's gone. He must have searched my flat. I'm going to kill him.-

“Okay, okay. I have to go. How long?”

-Don't know. He starts work at twelve, it's now five. He should be there already.-

“Right.”

Merlin hangs up and turns to Arthur, who's watching him with not very much interest.

“Merlin?”

“Yeah?”

“Toast.”

Merlin spins back to the grill and tugs at the grill pan, and that's when the doorbell goes.

“I'll get it.”

“No!”

Merlin hurries out, shutting the flat door behind him. He jogs down the steps (ignoring Lucas and his cars) and opens the front door, realises he's still holding a grill pan of singed toast, realises Arthur's got the intercom open, realises Leon (or what must be Leon) is already talking.

“It's Leon.”

Realises Arthur's going to be panicking and slams the front door in Leon's face, racing back up the stairs. Realises he left his keys inside and that Arthur's not answering the pounding Merlin starts up on the door.

“Let me in, Arthur!”

Nothing. Merlin kicks the door and winces as his toes protest. He goes back to pummelling.

“Arthur!”

“Stop this infernal racket. All the locks are the same on this floor, use my key.”

Merlin doesn't stop to be horrified at the lack of security, he just takes Mrs. Watkin's key and shoves it into the lock (still holding onto the grill pan). He tumbles inside, tossing the key back out, and slams the door already looking for Arthur. Arthur, who is sitting on the floor by the intercom coughing and choking on nothing. Merlin finally lets go of the grill pan and, ignoring the clatter it makes as it drops, he falls to his knees between Arthur's legs.

“Stop it. Here, feel and copy.”

Merlin presses Arthur's hand to his chest and takes carefully steady, deep breaths. Arthur just clenches his fingers over Merlin's.

“Okay. Breath in when I squeeze and don't breathe out until I squeeze again.”

They've done this before. Merlin squeezes and waits two carefully counted seconds before squeezing again. And again. And again. Arthur coughs and coughs and slowly, ever so slowly, his breathing evens and the coughing lessens. 

“Good. That's good. Try to stop coughing now.”

Merlin widens the gap to three seconds and squeezes. And squeezes. And squeezes. Over and over until Arthur meets his eyes and then over and over until the coughing stops and then over and over until Arthur's breathing slows. Then he widens the gap to four seconds and they breathe together for a while, squeezing one another's hands.

“He's here.”

“Yup. On your door step.”

“He can't be.”

“He ran out on his sister. Just up and stole her letter and ran away.”

“Is he here for me?”

“For you?”

“Yeah. To take me away.”

“I don't think so. Why?”

“He's going to take me away and I won't get to see you any more.”

“Really? Since when?”

“Since three weeks ago. I... I think he might.”

“I don't. I don't think anyone could. If he took you, I'd follow. Just like the puppy you accused me of being after I urinated in the garden at Gwen and Lance's.”

“That was gross.”

“I can send him away. He has no right to do this to you.”

“He does though, doesn't he?”

Merlin glares. No one has the right to hurt Arthur even unintentionally. Even if they were young and stupid. He secretly hates Leon.

“I think... I think I should talk to him.”

Merlin sighs.

“Okay.”

“You'll stay?”

“Of course. I think maybe we should get off the floor before we let him in, though. My knees hurt.”

Arthur nods and lets Merlin pull him to his feet. Merlin smiles a little as he feels the extra weight of Arthur. It's barely there, only noticeable if you're looking (which Merlin always is) but the weight is more. And last time Merlin did an unannounced check of Arthur's cupboards there had been pasta and vegetables and all sorts of things stashed there. And a copy of a budget tacked to the outside. 

“I'm ready.”

Merlin nods and smooths Arthur's crazy hair down, smiling when it just pops up again, and goes to let Leon up. He opens the flat door, still half watching Arthur where he's trying to flatten his hair and not moving from the spot Merlin put him in, and steps out. Immediately tripping over something that clears it's throat. Merlin rights himself and looks down. 

“Ah. Hello.”

“Someone let me up. I thought I'd just sit and wait.”

Merlin holds out a hand for Leon to take and tugs him to his feet. He grabs his shoulder before Leon can take a step towards the door, though, and pulls the door shut. 

“Wait.”

“What?”

“You have no right to be here. To do this. I don't like it. I don't know you so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt about being a dick. But you be careful. Be very, very careful.”

“Yes. I will be. Hen's told me a bit.”

“Good. Come on then, let's go.”

Merlin pushes the door open again and leads the way inside, looking for Arthur. Leon gasps behind him. Merlin ignores it. Arthur's still stood where Merlin left him, hands hanging loose at his side. Merlin tries to see him the way Leon must; compared to young healthy Arthur, without months to get used to the ribs. He looks tired and not particularly well. Merlin makes a mental note to talk Arthur into sleeping at Merlin's. 

“Hello Leon.”

“Arthur. Jesus. Arthur. It's... Arthur.”

“Hi.”

“I-”

Leon lurches forward and Merlin intercepts when Arthur flinches away. Leon holds Merlin's shoulder, eyes still on Arthur's face.

“Sorry, sorry. I just... are you real?”

“Um, think so? Should I not be?”

Arthur holds out his arms as if to demonstrate the reality of himself. 

“You still look the same.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. Like a rake with a pretty face.”

Arthur smiles, to Merlin's surprise. He lets Leon go but stays between them, just in case.

“You don't look the same. You're all grown and broad and proper.”

“Proper?”

“Yeah. Not 'unhealthily skinny'. In need of weight. Food deficient. Muscle deficient.”

“I always liked the way you looked. What are you up to these days, Arthur?”

“I'm doing my A-levels.”

There's silence for a while and Merlin goes to stand at Arthur's shoulder, hand resting absently on Arthur's side. 

“Shall I stay, or should I go make some tea?”

“I want to come with you, when you make tea.”

Merlin laughs and presses Arthur's side. 

“What about Leon?”

Leon's watching them patiently, not trying to listen or to inject.

“He... I want to come with you.”

“Leon, make yourself at home. We're going to make tea. Well, make yourself as much at home as you can with that sofa. A friend of ours chose it. Bad taste.”

Leon nods and goes to perch on the cushions. Arthur turns abruptly and heads for the kitchen, Merlin jogging to catch up. 

It's peaceful for a while after the tea, the silence relaxing, tension draining as they all sip. Having something to do with their hands seems to help the awkwardness lessen. Merlin watches Arthur and Leon in turns, Arthur out of concern and Leon out of curiosity. Who is it that Arthur had such feeling for? Who was the boy Arthur loved? Leon seems nervous, switching his cup from hand to hand, holding it up to examine the picture, running his fingers over the oddly shaped handle. His knee jiggles, stopping sometimes when Leon becomes aware of it. Arthur just drinks his tea, eyes down, and ignores what's happening in the room. 

“Hen tells us you're a teacher, Leon.”

“Um, of sorts. I run a child care place.”

“You did an NVQ?”

“Yeah. After A-levels. Only just finished.”

“And you already run your own place?”

“I live in a small town. There was a demand. I supplied.”

“I grew up in a tiny little village. The post office was just old John who drove out to the big town three times a week with people's letters, taking money plus a little charge for stamps.”

“That's nice.”

Leon's eyes have wandered back to Arthur and his words are distracted. Leon's fingers tighten on the mug and Merlin wonders if he needs to save it from being crushed. Arthur keeps on sipping, ignoring or unaware of Leon's scrutiny.

“Hen tells us,” Merlin pauses, trying to remember something that Hen's told him that he can use to make conversation, “That you play football?”

“Yeah, Saturdays. With the boys.”

“The boys?”

“College friends. Owen, Pell, Gilli, Mithian. She counts as one of the boys.”

“I remember Gilli. Hewas incredibly clumsy.”

Arthur sends Merlin a half smile, half smirk and Merlin rolls his eyes, knowing Arthur's implying he's clumsy too. He is not clumsy. As if to prove that, he misses the table when he puts his mug down and it falls to the floor. Arthur laughs the kind of laugh where he forgets he's not alone, head back, neck exposed, light and happy. Merlin sighs and shoves at Arthur's shoulder.

“That could happen to anyone. It does not mean I'm clumsy.”

Arthur remembers where he is and ducks his head again. 

“Gilli grew out of it. Maybe you will too?”

Arthur doesn't reply and Merlin sees disappointment on Leon's face. Leon had no right to be disappointed, Arthur's doing brilliantly. Merlin scowls at him but he must tense or shift with his annoyance because Arthur stiffens and makes an aborted movement to look at Merlin. Merlin relaxes again, consciously letting every muscle go loose.

“What do you do in your spare time? Hobbies, clubs, interests?”

Merlin realises it's a stupid question and sounds like he's interviewing Leon for something. There's no need for Arthur to smirk that way, Merlin realises.

“I'm part of a book club. It's an LGBT thing back home.”

“That's cool. I want an LGBT bookclub! Maybe I'll start one here.”

“It's good. There's a whole heap of LGBT lit out there. Have you ever read Virginia Wolf? Or there's some Balzac, I think. Muriel Spark wrote something sci fi with an LGBT character. A gay professor I think.”

“I've read Orlando. Arthur's reading one or another of hers for Literature.”

“Literature?”

“A-level. He's awesome at the essays. What did you get last time, the one that made you panic so?”

Arthur pinches Merlin fairly hard.

“It was B minus. I do better usually.”

“That's the honorifically scarring mark he got. You know, the one which haunts you for ever?”

“The essay that could have been. Ah, I remember those. Most of my essays were those. Arthur was always the brilliantly academic one of us. He used to-”

Leon cuts himself off and bites his lip, eyes asking for permission to speak of the past. Merlin wants to say no, to stop any wandering down memory lane that will inevitably lead to a re-hashing of Arthur's eternally dreamt about moment. But Arthur answers instead.

“I remember. I used to write Leon's essays for him and then not let him copy them or hand them in.”

“Yeah, you wouldn't write your own essays though.”

“I didn't like my essay questions.”

“But you loved Mr. Michaels, he was awesome.”

“You didn't get him. You had 'call me Lou, boys' didn't you. Perverted bastard. Do you remember the time we snuck into his office and stole his class notes?”

“Ha! That was great. He bumbled and mumbled and gave up on the lesson. We got to play footie.”

“I didn't get anything out of it. No payment for my putting myself in danger.”

“You got a blowjob! That's-”

Leon cuts himself off again, eyes wide and horrified. There it is; the past. 

“Why did you say that?”

“I'm sorry, it just popped out. I did give you a blowjob for helping.”

“Not that. Why did you believe Agravaine?”

Merlin sighs and pulls Arthur closer to him. Leon shifts and opens his mouth, closes it, rubs his face and then places his tea carefully on the table and stands. As if he's reciting a soliloquy. Merlin wants to snort and mock, but he doesn't. This is a soliloquy he wants to hear.


	3. Chapter Three- Leon's story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title says- Leon's POV on Arthur's leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> grief, child neglect mentioned, homophobia mentioned, grief. Cheating mentioned.

It was hot. Way, way too hot. English summers were not meant to be this hot. All Leon can think about is how hot it is, how very very hot. The football he's supposed to be booting into goal skids off at an angle and of course Arthur's there, already tearing away in the opposite direction. Their coach is yelling at Leon but Leon can't really be bothered. He shrugs and stops, looking up at the sky. Arthur scores. Of course.

“Knight! You useless lump! What was that?!”

“It's hot, sir.”

“It's hot? You think that'll be taken into consideration- well, we'll be inside so I suppose it will be- but there's no need to act like a pampered princess!”

Arthur hurries down the pitch to sling an arm over Leon's shoulder. He's sweaty and stinks of body and Arthur and it's gross. And slightly arousing. 

“Princess Leon, I scored. Won't you kiss your handomest knight?”

“I'm Knight, you're just a Penny.”

“Nah, I'm a dragon. PenDRAGON. Yeah?”

“Fine. Knights don't kiss dragons.”

“Sure they do, how do you think they get people to believe they've killed them? They woe them into secret relationships. 'But honey, they'd never understand'.”

“Both of you shut up and go change so I can go home. I'm fed up with you ugly teenagers. Go on, get.”

Arthur tugs Leon away and Leon groans as the heat presses in. 

“It's so muggy.”

“Storm's coming. Agravaine's away, come over?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. He's on a big important business thing so he won't be back for ages.”

“For how long?”

“Until Sunday! Jeez, Mr. paranoid.”

“With reason. Last time 'ages' was actually 'twenty minutes'.”

“I forgot. You distracted me with promises. Come on, let's shower and get home and shower again. My house will be cool, we can escape this blasted horrible sticky heat.”

Leon showers quickly. They do have to shower again when they get to Arthur's, Arthur's prediction is correct. They shower together this time, though, and Leon gets an orgasm out of it so everything's good. He also gets pizza because orgasms always make Arthur hungry. And then he gets another orgasm and wonders if pizza now makes Arthur horny. Or maybe it's just the heat making him... hot. Leon stops thinking when Arthur tries to make him orgasm a third time. Too much thought, too little brain. 

“Oh man. That... You're insatiable.”

“Mm. Been horny all day. All the heat and you sweaty and languid. And you keep... moaning. Like you're drowning in heat. Or like you're really really horny.”

“Ah.”

Leon hadn't thought about it like that. He just grumbles and groans about the heat. So that's where all this came from. He grins and decides to moan more often if this is what it gets him. Arthur, completely naked, lies on his back and picks drying cum off his chest. Which is a really disgusting habit Leon should try to break him off. Especially the whole flicking it at his adoring boyfriend thing. When the third flakes sails towards him Leon heaves himself up and flops on top of Arthur.

“Stop.”

Arthur giggles and tumbles them onto the floor, landing underneath Leon. Leon laughs as he gets a soft landing and Arthur gets winded, then tugs Arthur up to shower. Again. No orgasms this time, just water. And kisses. 

“S'nice.”

“Come on! Again?”

“Nah. I'm all sexed out. I just like you're stubble. Scratchy.”

“Let's get dressed and do... something.”

They get dressed, but they don't do anything. They go into the back garden and lie in the grass on a blanket, panting in the heat and occasionally conversing. Leon makes them cheese toasties for dinner and they eat at the kitchen counter, bickering about what film they should watch. They end up having 'make up' sex instead and then Arthur conks out, snoring and drooling into Leon's shoulder, so Leon can watch whatever he likes. 

He wakes, TV still on, with the sun blaring through the curtains. Arthur's still tight against his side, drool dried into his skin. Leon extracts himself to shower, managing not to wake Arthur. When Arthur sleeps the whole night without getting restless or waking from dreams, when he actually falls asleep instead of dozing it's best to let him be. Leon showers quickly and hurries back to look at Arthur. 

He's changed so much recently. The youth of his face and eyes has been replaced by dark circles, pale skin and exhaustion that shouldn't be there. And grief. Leon sighs and dresses slowly, thinking about Arthur and his parents and Agravaine and that horrible question all those months ago (“how would you go about it?”). He sighs again and goes to brush the hair off Arthur's face. He hopes Arthur keeps that promise. 

Leon makes his way down to the kitchen to clear up from dinner last night and eat some cereal. He glares at the photo Agravaine has in the hallway, of Arthur and Agravaine both smiling. Leon can tell Arthur doesn't want to be there. He's pulling away from the hand Agravaine has on his shoulder and his smile is the one he used at the funeral to greet his father's business associates. The photo's only there for show, to prove Agravaine is a 'good man' to run the company. 

Leon misses Uther's brusk and sometimes cruel sense of humour and the way he was with Arthur. There was some unkindness about the 'gay thing' but mostly he was great. He played football with them and used to lift Arthur off his feet, even when Arthur was thirteen, fourteen. Leon would come over sometimes and find Uther re-arranging the photos of him with Arthur or just looking, waiting for Arthur to stop sulking or being mad about one thing or another. He wasn't a patient man, only for Arthur.

He knows Arthur misses Uther. Misses their dinners and the jokes and the rough play. He misses the football and the lectures and the strict kindness. Leon doesn't understand completely. Arthur describes it as breathing through a sand storm, like the world is all shards of glass and doesn't fit together. Leon catches a look on Arthur's face sometimes, especially in this house where Uther is still so present, that he doesn't want to understand. 

And then there's Ygraine. Arthur's soft, gentle mother. The only steel in her was in defence of Arthur or some unfortunate Uther had been cruel to. Leon knows it was Ygraine who taught Arthur to forgo personal boundaries when it came to space. Not on purpose, she just made him so comfortable with touch. She was always running a hand through his hair, running a thumb over his jaw or nose as if marvelling at their existence. Hugging Arthur hello or just because. Linking their arms as they walked, adjusting his clothing. Or just a reassuring brush of her hand on Arthur chest or shoulder or stomach or back. 

Leon misses that, for Arthur more than for himself. He still has his own mother for that. But Arthur's retreating, shut away. He avoids people's touch at school for high fives or shoulder bumps or any of the things people were used to from Arthur. The odd half hugs he had for guys, the arm slung over your shoulders, the noogies and affectionate if rather rough shoves. It's all gone. Arthur only ever really lets Leon do that now. And duck face. 

Leon's still thinking about Arthur's grief when Arthur walks into the kitchen in nothing but Leon's jogging bottoms, yawning and stretching. He looks rested for once and he's smiling a real smile, face and body relaxed in a way that is now unusual for him. He comes and perches on Leon's lap and steals his cereal.

“Ugh! Soggy.”

“I was thinking.”

“Bad idea.”

Arthur mimes explosions and what looks to Leon like a duck and then gets up to get out his own bowl and spoon. He doesn't sit on Leon again, taking his own chair instead. Leon pouts but Arthur doesn't notice. 

“I slept like a log.”

“Good.”

“What are we doing today?”

“No plans. Sex? Lazing in the garden? TV?”

“Mm. Park, rugby. Think Owen and Elena are up for it. Maybe Pell.”

“I'll text round. It's so hot though!”

“It's cooler today. I stuck myself out the window to check. I slept too long to be lazy, I already feel half asleep.”

“You've not woken up properly.”

Leon gives in, though. Because if Arthur wants to play rugby then they'll play rugby. It turns out quite a lot of people are up for some Saturday exertion and the whole thing turns into a three team tournament that Arthur's team wins through sheer bloody mindedness and energy. Arthur and Leon troop back to Arthur's sweaty and more than ready for Leon's Saturday plans. They shower quickly, Arthur yawning and muttering stuff about who knew what into Leon's collar bone. Leon lets him, lets his hand drift over Arthur's body, then leads them to bed for something slower and less frantic than usual. 

They're still like that, together, hands roaming, when Leon is jerked off and flung across the room. He blinks, back yelling at him about pain. He frowns and looks for Arthur and notices Agravaine. Arthur looks resigned and small and far too old, huddled in the middle of the big bed. There's too much going on here and Leon wants to stay, or take Arthur with him, but Arthur shakes his head and begs Leon to go without saying a word. So Leon goes, grabbing his clothes and scuttling away. He dresses in the hall and listens to Agravaine yelling abuse and insults at Arthur, calling him names Arthur doesn't deserve in the least. 

Leon almost goes back, but then he thinks of Arthur begging him not to get involved and so he goes home. 

Leon waits all that evening and all day Sunday to hear from Arthur, but there's no call and no text and no Arthur showing up on the doorstep with all his stuff and asking to stay, which is Leon's real wish. He wants Arthur to be here and with him and safe and always here and safe and with him. But Arthur doesn't show up. Duck face paces and glares and rants and then tries to go fetch him, but Leon's Mum stops her with a few quiet words. She promises Leon she'll go fetch Arthur tomorrow after school if he doesn't show. And then she cards a hand through Leon's hair and hugs him and Leon cries because Arthur doesn't have this, a family, a place where he's safe. 

They've just finished dinner when the knock comes and Leon's out of his chair and tugging the door open, ready to pull Arthur into the house and reassure him. Except it's not Arthur, it's Agravaine. Agravaine with a letter. And a sad, solemn face. Leon's heart picks up (“How would you go about it?”) and he clutches at the door knob, breathing too fast or something. 

“He promised. He promised.”

“What? Excuse me, I don't understand.”

“Did he... is he...”

“He is fine. I apologise for throwing you out the other day, Arthur explained what you understood. He said you weren't like the other boys I've found in his bed. So I came to apologise, and deliver this letter.”

Leon laughs. Arthur hasn't... he didn't... he's fine. He's safe. He's not hurt. He's fine. Leon stops laughing and sighs in relief, opening the door for Agravaine and leading him upstairs so he can find out more about Arthur and what happened. It's only when they're in Leon's room that he realises that's not all Agravaine said.

“Other boys?”

“Yes. That is what's in the letter. Arthur has a history of... undesirable bed partners.”

Leon snorts. Like Arthur would do that. Arthur's loyal and stubborn and fragile. He needs looking after and caring for. Agravaine's stupid. Misunderstood something. Leon waves a hand and reaches for the letter, which Agravaine gives over. Leon reads it briefly, disgusted by it. It's all about how Arthur puts on an image of grief and insecurity to woo Leon while really he's all right and spends most of the time they're apart pulling guys and having sex. Leon laughs at some of the wording. 

“Arthur didn't write this.”

“He did. I've seen it, Leon. I'm the one who took him to the clinic after... well. There have been a few instances.”

Leon laughs again, incredulous that Agravaine thinks he'll fall for this.

“You're such a toad, Agravaine. You think I'll believe this of Arthur? Arthur's... you don't know anything about him if you think anyone would believe this.”

“I have proof. I didn't think you'd believe, so I brought his phone. Look through the texts.”

Leon takes the phone and scrolls through. Arthur's always getting him to answer and read texts, so it's all familiar. Then Agraine takes it back and types in a pass-code and more messages come up. From people Leon doesn't know. Lots of them have stuff in them that Leon recognises as things Arthur likes, or things they have agreed to wait to do due to uncertainty from one or the other.

“So you made up some texts.”

Except, they're dated. And how would Agravaine know stuff like this about them? And how would he have so many numbers? And why would he go to such a lot of trouble for something like this. His nephew's boyfriend. Leon knows he disapproves, but this is ridiculous.

“How could I? Why would I?”

“You want Arthur to be not gay. You don't want me around.”

Agravaine shrugs.

“I won't deny that I think he's got an image to uphold for the company. It's not you I object to, though. It's the parade of... of twinks and perverts. I have the results from the clinic, too.”

Leon takes the pages and skims. Arthur's name is there, and the clinic. And they're positive for stuff Leon recognises from the college sex talk. Leon tries to work out how these could be forged, but he can't. He still doesn't believe it, but he's confused.

“You were here on Wednesday night. Arthur asked you not to come over.”

Leon remembers. Arthur had been edgy and exhausted, something from his History class making him almost tearful. Arthur sometimes needs to just let things go, be alone, to grieve. Leon remembers thinking Arthur probably walked down to the churchyard to sit with his parents. 

“He was upset. He sometimes needs to be alone.”

“I was home. He came to the house and changed, then went out, then came back with someone called Cenred. I threw Cenred out. It's not the first time that's happened. Last week, Monday.”

Arthur had left school at twelve, skipped all afternoon classes. He'd said he was fed up. Leon knew he'd been crying again. 

“No, he was upset again.”

“I got home to find him and another boy, a different one, completely naked on my office floor.”

Leon can't believe he's even considering this. It's ridiculous. Arthur had gone home because he was tired and upset and didn't want to deal. It had happened, though it's been lessening. But... Arthur likes sex. Sometimes when he's upset he gets incredibly angry. He's torn his room apart before. Thrown things at Leon. Told Leon he wished he would just vanish. Leon knows that sometimes when Arthur gets drunk it's because he's trying to make everything stop. Maybe this is just another facet of his grief. There's a lot about that that Leon doesn't understand. Like how Arthur could even consider... (“how would you go about it?”). 

“I...”

“I think you understand why I'm asking you not to see Arthur any more. His parents' death has made him react this way and I need to get him help with it.”

“I...”

“Thank you, Leon.”

Agaravaine goes. He takes Arthur's phone but he leaves the clinic papers and the letter and an envelope of blurry photos of club kisses. It could be Arthur. Leon doesn't believe it happens the way Agravaine said, but it could be Arthur. It could happen. Leon mulls it over, going round and round from complete denial to complete belief and back again. He barely sleeps and he dreams of walking in on Arthur and one of his conquests. When he wakes he decides to leave it. To avoid Arthur for today and work it out tomorrow.

It almost works. Except there's a new boy in class called Cenred and he keeps leering at Leon and he flirts with Arthur and he touches Arthur and Leon avoids avoids avoids. But when Arthur finds him and acts like nothing's changed, acts like everything between them is the same as ever Leon forgets that he heard all these things from Agravaine. He forgets that they might not be true at all, that Arthur could be exactly the same as Leon knows he is. He forgets, and he lashes out and he walks away. 

He storms out to the bike shed. It's not used any more, a new one was built a few months ago. Arthur had discovered it as a good hiding place and now Leon sits in the dirt and cries and cries because Arthur's not who he thought. He stays there for a long time before remembering that Agravaine is a bastard and that now he has what he wanted; Leon gone. He remembers Arthur's words that horrible night (“My uncle will find out one day, then you'll be gone and nothing will matter.”). 

He jumps to his feet and shoves out, running as fast as he can back to school. He bursts into the room Arthur's supposed to be in and then bursts out, runs to the room he's supposed to be in and then to the place they eat and then to all of Arthur's hiding places. He doesn't find Arthur. He runs to Arthur's house and tears through, but Arthur's gone and some of his things are gone. A bubble of hope rises, thinking maybe Arthur's gone to Duck face or his Mum. 

He runs again, breathless and gasping for air. He thinks of going via the graveyard but decides home first. He crashes in the front door and trips, lying on the floor and trying to breathe. His mother comes hurrying out and pulls him up, hands running over him looking for injury.

“Arthur... Arthur?”

“What? He's not here love. What happened?”

“Fight... gone... Can't find him...”

His mum pull away and looks at him, worry and reassurance both in here eyes. She cups his face and looks at him, then nods.

“Okay. We'll look. Graveyard, first.”

Leon nods and runs to the car, waiting impatiently for his mother. They pull out and Leon can't stand the wait at the traffic lights and jumps out, running again. When he reaches the graveyard his mother's there. Talking to someone. Leon runs faster. It's not Arthur. 

“We just missed him, love. Train station?”

“Bus...”

They tumble back into the car. This time they break the speed limit and Leon's heart sinks. If his mother's worried this is real. Arthur's run. They check the bus station and the train station and the school again, their house again. They check the office and the park and various places they hang out but Arthur's just no where. By the time it gets dark Leon's shaking all over and his mother makes him sit in the livingroom with Ducky while she calls the police. 

“What happened?”

“Don't. We fought. I forgot he was...”

“Arthur. Yeah. It's not your fault.”

Leon shakes his head but doesn't try to explain. He's ashamed of the way he acted and ashamed that he believed Agravaine even for a moment and scared that Arthur's lost and so, so terrified. There's an odd tearing noise and he brings a hand to his mouth, trying to stop it, but then there's choking and sobbing and Ducky pulls him into her arms in a way she's only started doing since Arthur's parents died. 

The police ask questions and Leon answers, carefully editing until the police woman asks to speak to him alone. Then he tells her everything and cries some more and can't stop shaking. She wraps him in a blanket and takes some notes and says something into her radio. 

“Don't you worry. We've got patrols looking for him. We'll find him.”

Leon nods and his mother comes back and then his father and then there's more questions and Leon falls asleep. 

He wakes in his bed, his father dozing in a chair beside him. He yawns and wonders what's going on, and then he remembers that Arthur's gone and it's his fault.

“Leon? Morning.”

“Hi.”

“You were dreaming, so I stayed. What happened?”

“We had a fight.”

“Tell me. It's between us, okay?”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Leon.”

“No.”

“I won't hate you.”

“You will. I do.”

(“How would you go about it?”)

“Tell me. Was it Agravaine? I know he was up here on Sunday.”

“He told me stuff.”

Leon sits up and gets the papers and photos out, tells his Dad about the texts and about Cenred and about the rest of it. His jealousy and anger. His father listens and looks through what Leon's given him, frowning. 

“The police need to know this.”

“I told them.”

“I'll give these to them, too.”

Leon nods. 

“I still don't hate you. And this wasn't your fault. Or Arthur's fault. These things... jealousy, anger, arguments. They happen.”

“But not for Arthur! For Arthur it's the end of the world!”

“I know. I know, Leon. But knowing that and always being in control? It's impossible.”

“I shouldn't have done it.”

“No, you shouldn't. You were cruel. And angry and unthinking. But you got over it and went immediately to look for him. That's a good thing, Leon.”

“I can't find him. What if we never find him?”

“We will.”

A month later Leon can answer the question “How would you go about it?” a hundred different ways. He understands grief better and even understands Arthur's guilt, his certainty that it's his fault they're gone. He collects photos and things from Agravaine's and finds Arthur's diary. Finds out how Agravaine knew so much. He takes it to the police and the case against Agravaine (hate crimes, child neglect, forgery, corruption of minors) is made. Some charges stick, some don't. Leon watches it with vague interest and misses Arthur until he thinks he'll melt away.


	4. But what now...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon's back in Arthur's life, they've heard the story, they know what happened to Agravain... but what now? What next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: mentions past homelessness and surrounding issues, character death (temporary), grief, mentioned past prostitution hinted at, nightmares,

There's silence when Leon's done. Leon's crying silently, eyes begging Arthur to believe, to forgive, something. Arthur watches him for a while and then gets up, using Merlin's shoulder as leverage because he's suddenly tired the way Leon described. Tired from grief and tired from fighting something. He goes to his bedroom and sits on the rickety bed. It was weird, hearing about his grief and things from someone else. He'd never realised how much Leon knew. Or how hard it had been for Leon. 

He'd never realised what lengths Agravaine went to in order to convince Leon, either. He'd thought all it took was words and Leon had believed. But that wasn't how it happened at all. Maybe if they were still back then, and it had been happening, he would still have thought Leon should never have believed it even for a moment. But that was then and this is now and he knows that Leon barely believed it and only for long enough to yell and mostly because he was hurt and confused and tired. 

“Arthur?”

Arthur looks up at Merlin and shrugs. He's not okay but he's not freaking out, not sobbing or breaking things. He'd expected more hurt, more anger, more of something. Instead he's just... relieved. 

“It's a relief, to know for sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I... it feels good. That I didn't get it wrong. I feel like a fool for leaving, though. If I'd have stayed ten minutes longer...”

“If only, what if, who cares? You didn't. It happened.” Merlin sits beside him, “Now we deal with it.”

“I really loved him.”

“And he you, if that story is anything to go by.”

“Yeah.”

“I don't secretly hate him any more.”

“No, me neither.”

“But you needed to get away?”

“I want to think.”

“Well, maybe later? Because I don't think he's as okay with all this as you are.”

“I'd forgotten about Cenred. He was so creepy, leering and touching. I was looking for Leon, actually, so he'd back off.”

Arthur stands and goes back to the living room, looking at Leon. He's so different, so much older. He looks like someone who grew properly. Arthur feels his ribs absently, wondering if he's fatter. The scales say so, though the doctor says he needs to keep exercising and eating properly and blah blah blah. 

“It wasn't your fault. I was ready to bolt anyway.”

“I know. I can still feel it, though.”

“Yeah. Um... I kept my promise.”

“I kept your promise, too.”

They nod and then there's awkwardness. 

“I should go.”

“Come back tomorrow? We can... Don't know. Something less harrowing.”

Leon laughs and stands, coming over to touch. This time Arthur lets him and Leon runs a hand over his ribs and stomach. 

“Hen said you were fine, but you're all tiny and thin.”

“I've got fatter!”

“You have? Jesus.”

“I know. I'm working on it.”

“Good. Good.”

“I'm going to give you Merlin's address and you're going to come for lunch tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes. Okay.”

Merlin realises Arthur needs Leon gone. It's sudden, but Merlin picks up on it the moment Arthur sends him a desperate glance and steps in.

“Can you go do the dishes Arthur? The breakfast ones are still there. It's your turn.”

“Okay.”

Arthur bumbles off, eyes down. He can feel Merlin watching him straggle away and when he gets to the kitchen he waits, listening, head back against the wall.

“My address, in case you get lost.”

“He's... he looks so thin.”

“He's better, and getting more so all the time.”

“Oh. He must have... I did look, Merlin. I really did look.”

“I know. I don't hate you any more, Leon. It's fine.”

“Okay.”

Leon turns and trudges away looking dejected. 

He comes for lunch and he and Arthur talk tentatively, avoiding the past and the mostly pretending they're strangers to one another and getting to know each other's respective jobs, personalities and general business. It's awkward but Merlin seems to think it's healing, so he leaves them to. Arthur has nightmares that night. And the next. When he's still not sleeping through the night a week later Merlin starts worrying. 

Arthur knows Merlin's worried. He's starting a cough, which doesn't help. It's sure to go straight to his chest and make him properly sick. Again. He always seems to be malingering. The doctor says his immune system will start getting stronger now that he's eating and sleeping properly and not living on the streets but right now he still picks up every little thing. 

He also keeps dreaming of Leon. Not the old dreams of Leon hating him, but new ones. Leon finds him, all those years ago. He finds him and Arthur never meets Merlin. It's not bad, they're not nightmares. He goes home and lives with the Knights, finishes school, goes off to university, is happy and in love with Leon. But when he wakes there's an ache of loss under his rib cage and he realises he's crying, calling out for Merlin. 

Sometimes, he dreams about other things. Things he shoved away. Every time he's felt something negative he's always put it down to Leon and let the other things hide. But now he's dealing with Leon, dealing with that part of what happened, and the other things are rearing their heads, breaking out of their neat boxes. Some are memories, some are stories people told him, some are the insults he's had hurled at him except in his dreams it's people, Merlin especially but Lance, Gwaine, Percy, Elena and Leon too, even Ducky, shouting them at him. 

Then there are the dreams where he wakes up back home with Myror and Val, in the middle of one of Val's bad days. He wakes from the dream of Merlin, of finding Leon, of having friends and a job and a place to stay. These are the worst, he thinks. Because in these Leon never came and Merlin doesn't exist. Never existed. These are the ones that make Arthur wish he was back there so he had none of this to lose. 

Merlin is always there when he wakes, eyes worried, face growing paler as neither of them get much sleep. A week after Leon leaves everything comes to a head when Arthur's sent home from work because he's coughing too hard. His ribs ache with it, every time he coughs he has to hold onto his ribs to stop it hurting. He goes to Merlin's because it's warmer than his and he lies on the sofa, trying to get some sleep. He sets an alarm so he wakes before Merlin gets back and Merlin doesn't have to know how sick he is. 

He wakes up with Val's hand over his mouth, the little room in darkness. He frowns and wriggles, feeling his bones press against the sheets. He's not any fatter after all. He wonders where Merlin is, why he's back here. 

“You awake?”

Val's whispering so Arthur nods. Also, he has Val's dirty hand over his mouth. 

“Police.”

Again. What's Val done this time? Who knows. Val's hand vanishes and Arthur sits up, eyes widening as he realises he has to cough. He presses a fist to his chest but it's no good, he has to cough. 

“Don't you dare. My's getting rid of them.”

Arthur nods, but still he has to cough. His chest rumbles as he wheezes and he coughs a tiny cough. But he can't breath in without coughing some more. He freezes as long as he can, but then he coughs involuntarily, then harder and harder until he's bent over his knees, blood on his lips. 

“Damn you, Arthur.”

The door opens and Myror's shoved through, the light switched on. Two policemen step into the room. They're not in uniform but they're policemen. Arthur knows how to recognise them. He tries to stop coughing but he can't, can't catch his breath.

“Which of you is Valient West?”

“Not telling.”

Great, so now he's got to pretend he's Val. Oh well, it could be worse. He could be dying. He starts to try to laugh through the coughing and that makes it worse. 

“We'll just question you both, then. Down at the station.”

Arthur's dragged to his feet, a tissue shoved into his hand. He coughs into it and manages to slow and then stop the coughing, spitting blood into the tissues. He drops them in the bin as he passes and then they're away. He sleeps in the police car and he falls asleep in the interrogation room. He's willing to be Val. What does he have to loose? He's dying anyway. Now he just has to work out how to tell Val. 

“Come with me.”

Arthur's dragged to his feet again and they pass Val in the hallway. He looks angry. As they pass, when Val's just out of presumed ear shot, Arthur tells the copper he's Val. Val will hear, Val always hears. The policeman just shoves him into the lift, pressing the basement button. They ride in silence, except Arthur has to cough again. They step out into a much colder part of the station and Arthur shivers, pulling his ratty cardigan around him. It's too cold for a dying man. He laughs and coughs some more, shambling after the police man.

“In here. Do you know this man?”

Arthur's shoved into a room where a pale man lies on a metal cart. Arthur doesn't know who it is, but he feels he should. Dark hair, beautiful features. He doesn't do that any more, but for this guy he might've. He's got amazing cheek bones, a really unique facial structure. And...

“Ears. Nice ears.”

Arthur reaches out to touch, running his hand along the cheek. He should know this man. He realises he's crying, gasping for breath through his tears. He's so beautiful and so cold, so pale. Arthur takes off his cardigan to try and warm him up, lifts him off the trolley and sinks to the floor, wrapping him in the tatty wool and holding him. 

“He's too cold. Can't you warm him up?”

Everthing's gone, though. There's just Arthur holding onto this dead person, this cold body which is making him choke with grief for something he doesn't understand. He just hold on, rocking them both in his arms, clinging to the man. 

“Arthur.”

Arthur starts to cough again and he doesn't care, can't be bothered to stop it. He's Val and he's dying and he's not letting this man die. He's going to warm him up and take him home. He's going to... but he's so cold. So very cold. 

“Arthur, shhh. Come on. Please wake up, you need to wake up.”

Arthur feels someone holding onto him as he shuts his eyes. He reaches wildly for the dead man and someone warm and alive is there instead. He presses into the body and holds on, crying and coughing as he wakes. 

“Merlin.”

It's Merlin. It's Merlin's body in the morgue, and Val killed him. So cold and so pale, so cold. Oh God and Arthur hadn't recognised him. Why hadn't he recognised Merlin? And how did Val kill him? Why? Merlin's gone. Arthur keeps his eyes shut and moans into the warm shoulder, trying to claw at the fabric, grabbing it and tugging. He wants Merlin, not this person. 

“I want Merlin.”

“I'm here. Shh, I'm right here, Arthur. Jesus you need to stop coughing.”

He is still coughing, hacking his lungs up. It sounds like Merlin. Except...

“You were dead. You died. All white and cold and dead.”

“No. You were dreaming. I promise. Just open your eyes and you'll see.”

It sounds like Merlin, but Arthur's not going to open his eyes. Just in case he's back with the body in the cold place. He'll just stay here with his eyes closed, thank you very much.

“All right. But calm down, you need to stop coughing. You're hurting yourself.”

Arthur tries. Merlin's here. Everything's fine. He just needs to keep his eyes closed and everything's fine. Merlin's telling him everything's fine. Oh God, what's he going to do without Merlin. He starts to cry and feels Merlin's arms tighten around him, hand soothing and sure on his back and shoulders. He's coughing but it's okay, Merlin's here.

“Shhh. You should've called me. It's all right, it's fine. I'm here, I'm alive. I'm not hurt at all. Oh, thanks, Lance. Here, drink this.”

Arthur feels Merlin pull away and, to his embarrassment, makes a hoarse whimpering sound and tries to latch on before Merlin vanishes. But Merlin doesn't vanish, he just makes room between them for a warm something. Mug, Arthur deduces when it's held against his mouth. He sips when Merlin tilts it and something warm soothes his throat, makes it easier to breathe. He keeps drinking, trying to finish it so Merlin will hold him closer again, but it takes forever. Then he's back in Merlin's arms. 

He just has to keep his eyes shut and everything will be fine. He just has to stay here and not go back. Never go back to the cold room with Merlin's body. He presses as close as he can to this warm, alive Merlin and breathes out carefully, not coughing. And again. Relaxing and synchronising his breaths to Merlin's, feeling the comforting rise and fall of his chest, listening to his heart. It's so warm, so peaceful. 

He wakes to Merlin. Merlin's still holding onto him with one arm, the other holding a mug. Arthur opens his eyes this time, watching Merlin's hand on the cup. It's all that's in his sight, that hand and the sofa arm. There's a blanket around him and Merlin's talking quietly to someone. Lance. Lance was here last time Arthur woke. Oh. He freaked out last time. Because of a dream. It hadn't felt like a dream. He shudders as he remembers the body on the trolley.

“Arthur? Hey, he's awake. How're you feeling?”

“Cold.”

“You're cold?”

Arthur frowns. That's not what he meant.

“No. You were too cold. I gave you my jumper but you wouldn't warm up.”

“It was a dream.”

The coffee mug is taken by another hand and Merlin's now empty hand guides Arthur's face up, to look into Merlin's eyes. Warm eyes, concerned. Very much alive. Very blue. 

“They were still so blue, even when you were dead.”

“I wasn't. It was a dream. I'm so sorry I wasn't here to wake you earlier. Next time give me a call, okay?”

“Kay.”

“How are you feeling? Your chest?”

“Um.”

Arthur considers, breathing deeply. He's wheezing again, can feel congestion in his chest, but it's not too bad. It makes him cough and he looks around for a tissue. The doctor told him he has to spit anything he coughs up out, because that's the infection and swallowing it makes you sicker. Merlin leans forward, not letting go of Arthur, and hands Arthur a whole handful of tissues. 

“Here.”

Arthur spits the mucus into the tissues and leans over Merlin's lap to drop them in the bin. Remembering the action from his dream, he pauses and checks. 

“No blood.”

“Good!”

“I was... in the dream there was blood. I was dying again. I never found you.”

“Well it was a dream and you did find me and you're not to cough up blood ever again.”

“Okay. I'm tired. It hurts when I breathe, but I think it's just congestion.”

“Mm. Lance thinks so too. He listened to your breathing while you slept.”

“Did you tell him...?”

Arthur trails off because he's not sure what Merlin knows to tell Lance.

“I just said you weren't very well. All right?”

“Mm. Kay.”

“Do you want to sleep some more?”

“No. No, I want... I don't know.”

“Okay. You can just stay there, then. Lance is making lemon and honey. And probably calling Gwen to check on their satanic spawn.”

“It's a baby, Merlin. Not the devil.”

“Baby's frighten me. You know this.”

Arthur does know. Or he knows that Merlin jokes about it. In reality when they cross paths with a baby Merlin's cute with it, so Arthur smirks and nods sarcastically. Merlin whacks his thigh and snorts in retaliation, but he's clearly amused.

“I'm kind of hungry, Merlin.”

He's not, but the beaming smile he gets for saying it always makes him feel better. And he could eat something. He could. 

“Lance! He's hungry!”

“Really? Hey, Gwen?... yeah, Arthur's hungry!... yeah.”

Lance wanders out of hearing again and Arthur lets his eyes slide shut, Merlin's hand rising to massage his neck absently. It feels good. Merlin's hands are warm and strong, holding him gently in place against Merlin's chest. Arthur can hear Merlin's heart beating away in his chest, a steady reassuring thu-thump. He sighs and breathes deeply, coughing again.

“Do you need more tissues?”

“Uh-huh.”

Arthur spits into them when Merlin passes them to him. Then he sighs again and leans against Merlin, resting his ear on Merlin's chest over his heart. 

"S'nice."

"What on earth is nice about this situation, Arthur? God, you scared the crap out of me!"

Arthur, feeling literal, starts giggling breathily to keep from coughing, sniggering and snuffling and chuckling away to himself. 

"What?"

"Better wash your pants, Merl. Scared the crap right out of you."

"Jesus you're an idiot. I got home and you were lying there like a white, cold statue sobbing your heart out and coughing. It was frightening. I couldn't get you to wake up."

"Sorry."

Merlin sighs, this time. He reaches down and strokes Arthur's hair. 

"What's going on?"

"It's always been about Leon. Always. All the hurt and wrong and badness. But... now it's not, now it's better with him. And the rest is just too much, Merlin. It's too much."

"Too much?"

"You. You're... there are so many ways I could have not met you. You saved me."

"You saved yourself."

"You helped me, Merlin. Whether you believe it or not. You helped me. And what if you never had? There are so many ways... I can't lose you and that scares me. So much."

"I know. Do you think it doesn't scare me? I love you so much it's like drowning. You're nineteen years old, Arthur. You have so much life left to live in. You're so young. One day you might agree with that therapist. I'm just the first person who-"

Arthur pulls away and puts a hand over Merlin's mouth, silencing him. He doesn't want Merlin to believe that. Ever. He kisses the words away, erasing them from Merlin's mouth. 

"No. No. I don't want anything else, Merlin. I've met a lot of people and seen a lot and done a lot. If all I ever do for the rest of my life is sit here with you, that's fine by me. I've had enough excitement. And you... you're not... What about Lance? He was kind and tried to help. I'm not living with him. Or Percy. Or Gwaine. Or Elena! I met her pretty much at the same point and she was actually nicer to me! You were a bit of a dick, really. Leaving me in that waiting room."

"I... sorry."

"I was joking. I know. It's fine. But I think that therapist was an idiot and I want you to think that, too. I want you to believe me. To believe that I'm the kind of person who will love you until I can't breathe any more."

"I do. I do believe you."

"Besides, my new therapist is nice and she says you sound lovely and I ought to hang on to you. She says I am fine to date you, I just have to keep a bit of distance and learn to live without you... I mean learn to live apart from you as well as in your pocket."

Merlin ignores Arthur's slip. He kisses him, tears dampening it. Arthur hadn't noticed the tears. He made Merlin cry. He reaches to dry them with his sleeves and Merlin laughs, pulling away.

"I'm fine. I'm just a bit sad. Because you're hurting."

"I know. Merlin, I don't know what to do with all this. It's not about Leon. I learnt to push it all aside and now it won't go back and it's all here, all the time. I can't think about it, about you, about... what I did. I don't want you to know it, Merlin. You can't know it all."

"Okay. What about your new therapist? Maybe she can help?"

"I can't tell her. I can't think about it, Merlin! I don't want it here!" 

Merlin tugs him back into a hug and soothes his too fast heart beat back to synchronised beating with Merlin's.

"Shh. It's all right. There's no need to think about it. Don't think about work, or money, or having to buy food, or any of it. I'll look after you for a few days. Just let me care for you a few days while you get better and then we'll think. We'll deal with it, Arthur. I promise. For now just relax."

"Kay. Later?"

"Much later. Now, Lance has made us some soup and is hovering in the doorway with that little wrinkle in his forehead that means we might not be getting it because he doesn't want to interrupt and is about to put our dinner in the fridge with a note on it. I want to eat it, personally. Will you sentence it to a fridge-fate?"

Arthur laughs and starts to cough again, sitting up and coughing until he's a bit light headed with it. And then they eat soup and Lance and Merlin chat while Arthur dozes, and then Merlin puts him to bed and makes him promises and keeps him warm and safe and doesn't let go all night. Whenever Arthur wakes Merlin's wrapped tightly around him, breathing comforting and steady, arms automatically tightening or loosening as Arthur needs. 

They'll deal with it. Leon will come and go, they'll be all right there. And the rest... the rest will take time. But they'll manage. He and Merlin. Merlin and Arthur. Arthur and Merlin. Arthur falls asleep at two am and sleeps for hours, smiling softly.


	5. ...And now this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens next, is this. But will it work out happy or will everything come crashing down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: prostitution, abusive language, non- and dub-con for the prostitution, homelessness, violence, some graphic memories
> 
> Notes: this is the penultimate chapter of 'Finding Leon' so if there's anything you want to see for the ending, comment and I'll work it in if it fits with what I have in mind to end this. 
> 
> Also, any further ideas for this universe are always welcome! Inspiration is always, always welcome :)
> 
> This is un-betaed so any mistakes with SPaG, feel free to point them out

When Arthur wakes Merlin's still there, hand in the centre of Arthur's chest, mouth open, eyes shadowed with tiredness. Arthur feels... better. He feels better about his life falling out of control. He has Merlin, whether his subconscious believes it or not. It'll be okay. But Merlin, Merlin's tired. He looks very tired and Arthur berates himself for not noticing. He slips out of bed and lies on the sofa in the livingroom, thinking how he can fix things. 

He should talk to his therapist. About the little things. He doesn't need to talk about Leon, that'll work itself out now. He's okay about Leon now. Well, not really. It still hurts, he still feels abandoned and stupid and tired about it all. But he deals now instead of drowning in it. And he can always call Leon and make awkward conversation. Leon sometimes calls him for awkward conversations, too. They'll probably not be friends again. Not with the things they've done to one another. But it's nice to be able to know Leon's okay and that he never really felt any of the awful things Arthur thought. 

So he'll talk to his therapist. And he'll keep volunteering at the art place to see his friends, even though it's hard to see them slowly dying from the streets. He'll do his job and do his college work and be with Merlin and save up the hard darkness for therapy. He jerks when he hears Merlin stirring awake, the intrusion of even the small noises putting him on alert. He relaxes and gets to his feet, making for the kitchen to make breakfast. 

He takes it through on a tray, toast and tea and boiled eggs. Which is still mostly what he can make. Maybe he should do a cookery course so he can make Merlin nicer food. As an after thought he grabs some oranges and the carton of apple juice and then as another after thought he picks a flower out of the vast on the table and puts that on the tray too before taking it to the bedroom. 

“Morning. I brought breakfast.”

“Oh. Um, hi.”

Arthur smiles at Merlin's sleep befuddled face and puts the tray carefully in Merlin's lap when he struggles upright, taking all the liquids and putting them on the bedside table so they don't spill before climbing into the bed next to Merlin and sneaking a piece of toast. He munches, listening to Merlin muttering his thanks and about nice boyfriends and breakfast in bed and Merlin's hand, when it's not busy with breakfast, massages Arthur's neck which is nice. Arthur coughs a lot now he's been up and around, but it's okay.

“How are you this morning, Arthur? You had some dreams.”

“Yeah. Sorry if I woke you.”

“Not the point.”

“Still sorry. I feel better. Thanks. For being... uh... for... stuff. For stuff.”

“And thank you for breakfast. I've been thinking. I don't know what you want to do about these things you can't talk about, but maybe some kind of art thing? Like drawing the feelings. I know it sounds wishy washy but if you can't talk about it and can't write it and don't want to name it, it's just a feeling. That's what art's about. So maybe...”

“I could do that. I like that idea. I might. I'm going to talk to the therapist as well. You won't... if I tell her things you don't know, will it upset you?”

“No. Whenever you feel you can tell me, even if that's never. You know that.”

“Okay.”

Arthur nods. He doesn't want Merlin to know the details. Merlin knows the broad sweep of what life was like, but mostly after he started selling the Big Issue. Before that it was... Arthur can't really face it. It's too big. He nods again and focuses on his toast, hiding under Merlin's arm against his side. It's like this a lot, he'll creep into Merlin and get as close as he can, curling up. It's not like him. He knows it's not like him even though it's nice. He should be... bolder. Bigger. Better. He coughs again, rubbing his chest until Merlin's clever fingers take over the massage.

With Leon he was always assertive, less clingy. Sure it was all new and when he was upset about his parents he'd let Leon be the bigger one, the one protecting. But mostly he wasn't so damned... pathetic. He is pathetic now. A little wisp of pathetic-ness. He munches his toast and feels contentment despite his thoughts. He likes being in Merlin's presence, it's calming. And the longer it goes on, this relationship, the more he feels like he's not just with Merlin because of how Merlin helps him with his stuff. His issues. 

“You know, I think I quite love you Merlin.”

“You think? Only quite?”

“Well, you're all nice and warm and soft and kind about all the stupid things I've done. And you saved me a bit. And you're lovely about my stupid issues. And the homelessness stuff. But... I don't really care about all those good things. I just quite like you. Rather a lot. All your stupid habits and your little cares and worries and the way you love all your lost causes.”

“My lost causes?”

“Yeah. Me and Will. We know all about my lostness. Will's so bitter and twisted up and grumpy he needs the only friend he's managed to make. And the others you adopt whenever they come along. Someone need only look pathetic and they have your protection. You're kind and I like that.”

“I think that's a compliment.”

“It is. I also like that you joke with me and tease me and fight with me. When I'm not freaking over Leon. And yell at me about lube so loud my neighbours won't meet my eyes. And let me get drunk and make a fool of myself and so much about you is brilliant. And basically you're my friend and I love you quite.”

“Quite. Good. Because I love you too. As you know. Now, we are having a lazy day with no deep conversations. Stop ruining my plans.”

Arthur snickers and settles back into his safe hiding place at Merlin's side. 

He tries to keep his self made promise to keep his darkness for therapy, and it works okay. He still dreams and dreams, Merlin still wakes him, they still don't get enough sleep. His cough lessens because Merlin's so good at taking care of him, so it's not the coughing keeping him awake. He just... can't sleep. But he talks it through with his therapist and he makes himself just ramble on and on in a stream of consciousness until he accidentally reveals something he can't talk about. 

“... and then we went shopping and the boy behind the till reminded me of someone who gave me a tenner for a blowjob. I was sixteen and I just wanted to eat, so I took it. And I shut my eyes and pretended I was on a beech and then I had pasta for dinner. So I did it again. I learn to charge more than a tenner and choose my customers...”

He usually leaves after one of them. 

“... he called me a faggot and hit me. His ring scraped across my lip. I bit him and he yelled and tried to hit me again, so I ran. I didn't get the money...”

Or goes to throw up.

“... they pushed me. Thought it was funny. Called me a homeless whore, but I didn't do that anymore. I told them and they called me scum...”

Merlin leaves him to his silence afterwards, at home.

“... slacker, hopeless, stupid, retard, spastic, whore...”

He sometimes can't stop and the therapist has to calm him, hands on his chest and back holding him in a sitting position until his breathing evens again.

“...he just punched me then walked on, chatting with his mates...”

It reminds him of being there and sometimes he has to just go home and close his eyes and forget.

“... alchi, druggie, they used to say loudly that I was high or on drugs but I was just hungry...”

He falls asleep shivering with the memory of the pressing cold even with Merlin's body at his back.

“...I was so lonely. Everyone's alone out there, no matter what. Alone and helpless...”

He sits next to Myror at art and stares straight ahead, playing with the pencil until Myror takes it out of his hand and physically puts Arthur's hands on his knees. He keeps a hand on Arthur's shoulder the whole time. 

“...I wanted a dog once. But I didn't want to hurt it. There was a man who beat his dog, so I took it. But she died in the night and I didn't know. I carried her around for a week before someone took her away because she was rotting...”

He tells Merlin about Daisy, but he doesn't explain that for most of the time Arthur knew her she was dead. The image of himself is too pathetic.

“... I didn't dare go to the police. I was tired of being ridiculed. I didn't want more people to dismiss me as nothing...”

Val sometimes comes to art. Sometimes high, sometimes moody. He sits next to Arthur and scowls, splashing poster paint onto a page with rough, untidy strokes. 

“... Val frightened me. He threatened me if I ever betrayed him. I didn't know how to betray him, though. Once he decided I was okay, though, he was a good friend to me...”

And always Merlin was there. Merlin and James. James is so patient. He jokes with Arthur when he misses work and gives him extra work when he needs the distraction. He even sits with Arthur and listens to him ramble. James' Dad was homeless after he lost himself to drink so Arthur feels safe telling James some things. 

“... James reminds me of a man. Before the Big Issue I found this warm vent. Every night I'd curl up. Sometimes this man would come and sit and I wondered who he was. He scared me. I realised later that he came and sat there when the clubs were busy because it wasn't a safe place to sleep then and I didn't realise. He was stabbed when he got too drunk and started a fight. He sat there and protected me, because I was little. Never spoke to me, never asked anything...”

It takes a long time to tell it all. It doesn't come out chronologically and he keeps remembering more things and people to tell about. It's endless and after a month he's so exhausted by it all that on Saturday, with the day off, he doesn't bother to get up. He has to go see the doctor later and he's supposed to be playing football with Gwaine and Lance and people later, but he'll just sleep a bit longer. Merlin's working so no one will ever know.

He's late for the doctor and he's lost weight instead of gaining it. He stares at the scales and feels tears begin. He pushes them away rubbing his face, and tries to step off. The doctor holds him there a moment, though, to get the numbers and measure his height as well. For some reason. Only then does he let Arthur put his shoes back on and sit in the patient chair, taking his own seat and tapping away on the computer. 

“I never did get your height. I realised last night when I was updating patient files. Just a minute, I need to add... there we go. So. What's different?”

“Huh?”

“You've stopped getting heavier. What changed? Are you just tired?”

“I... Leon turned up.”

“You're friend and ex?”

“Yeah. And it brought up a lot. And then I've been talking more to my therapist.”

“All right. How are you sleeping?”

“um... okay now. It's been... I've been having nightmares.”

“But no insomnia?”

“No. Not since... uh... my boyfriend reassures me so I'm not afraid to sleep.”

“Good, good. I'm going to asses you for depression, Arthur.”

Arthur feels his face heat and something sick and dizzy flow over him. 

“Arthur?”

“Mmm.”

“It's not the end of the world if you are. I think it's probably a good thing, something we can look into dealing with. I don't want to give you anything for sleep because a lot of medication actually makes dreams worse. I'm going to suggest a routine bed time and that you do as much exercise as you can fit in. Don't over do it, though.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. You fill this in.”

Arthur fills in the paper. In the past week have you had trouble eating? Sleeping? Have you harmed yourself? Have you thought about suicide? The questions are blunt and Arthur feels his ears ringing louder and louder. He doesn't want to answer. He finds himself shaking when he's done but the doctor just smiles sympathetically and looks down the answers.

“You're depressed, Arthur. It's all right though. A diagnosis is good. We can deal with this. I know you have a therapist and are talking things through and that's good, but what about the rest of your life? Are you eating?”

“Yes. I... it's hard to remember sometimes.”

“That's okay. Have you tried alarms? There's a cookery class running at the moment. It's actually designed to help people with anorexia, but I've suggested it to other patients and I know it's not just people with that problem there. It focuses on balanced diet, a good meal and gaining weight without just putting on fat.”

“I was thinking of a cooking class.”

“I'll just... makes a note to get the details for you later. I also want you to try and exercise. I don't mean work out incessantly, I mean take the stairs when it's an option, crouch to do your laces, go for an easy jog in the mornings. Just get yourself moving. It'll help with the aches.”

“Okay.”

“I know it's a lot, I don't expect this to all fall into place before I see you again. We'll go slow. Now, about the depression. Lifestyle is important. For now we'll focus on food and exercise, but I do want to think about other aspects with you. We'll do that in a few weeks, though. Think about your routine, see where the stresses are.”

“I will.”

“We can try an antidepressant if you'd like to. I'll give you some written information today and next time I see you we'll go through it. Don't worry about it, Arthur. You don't need to impress me or worry I'll judge you. I'm here to support you, whatever happens. It's my job and, with you, my pleasure.”

“thanks.”

“Now, I'll get the cookery class info, the meds info and then you can go.”

Arthur nods. He blinks and must be skipping time because suddenly the doctor's giving him papers and pamphlets and he's getting up, unsteady on his feet. She steadies him and squeezes his elbow in reassurance. Arthur surprised it actually feels reassuring. He blinks and leaves, wandering home. He forgets about football and tosses the paperwork aside, curling up in his bed to listen to the radio. He turns it to an innocuous drama about nothing serious and dozes. 

“Arthur?”

Arthur blinks awake and sees Will's face hovering, grinning and scowling and then grinning again. 

“Huh?”

“Merlin's working but Gwaine called to say you never showed up and they couldn't get you on your phone.”

“Oh.”

“So he sent me. Come on, get up. Food. We need food and beer if we're going to be girls.”

Arthur gets up obediently, bewildered by the exhaustion dragging at him. Will doesn't ask questions like Merlin does, doesn't snuggle up or hug him. He orders a pizza and makes vegetables grumbling about Merlin's lectures about healthy eating, drinks beer and puts on the TV to watch doctor who. His presence is oddly soothing, though. Grumbling and there and concerned about Arthur even if he's pretending he's not. 

They're closer, mostly in the middle of the sofa, bickering idly about whether Matt or David makes a better doctor. They are, by now, on first name terms with the actors and are also a little bit tipsy because there is somehow a lot of beer in Arthur's cupboard. Probably from last time Gwaine was here to watch football. Will's waving his arms about and Arthur's concentrating on defending himself from flails and watching Matt being mistaken for gay with James. It's a nice episode. He likes to pretend they really are gay with a baby. 

He looks up when a key sounds in the door and smiles lazily, forgetting to catch Will's flaily arm.

“...and also, David has this whole-”

“Merlin's here, Will. Hush.”

Merlin finally gets the door open (Arthur rolls his eyes. The lock is easy to open even without a key. Merlin's just incompetent) and steps inside, looking tired and worried. When he sees them there looking up at him he looks relieved and a bit more tired then before. Arthur pats the cushion beside him and holds up his mostly empty beer bottle, gestures to the mostly empty pizza box.

“I saved you two slices. It was mighty difficult with your stupid mate trying to eat it all. He says David is-”

“He is! Matt's just riding on the fish fingers and custard wave. Also, Donna vs. Amy?”

“No contest.”

“Donna.”

“Donna.”

They grin at each other and Merlin flops next to Arthur stealing his beer and making a face at it's warmth. Arthur had mostly forgotten it in his haze of watching the doctor be nicely gay. He ruffles Merlin's hair and sticks a slice of pizza in his mouth. 

“Mmph. Thanks.... Will, go home.”

“Merlin!”

“ _Mer_ lin. We're watching.”

“Go on, Will. I'm tired.”

Will gets up and scowls, points at Arthur and promises to continue the discussion later. They will definitely be continuing. Arthur's already lining up his arguments. 

“I gave him veggies as well, Merl. You owe me!”

The door crashes shut behind Merlin and Arthur turns his attention back to the screen, absently tucking Merlin under his arm. 

“I'm lighter.”

“I know. I can tell.”

“I'll get better.”

“I know.”

“I have... things. Paper. About... things. Cooking. I have to do stuff, exercise. Running. Sleeping. Um... Doc says I'm depressed. Got stuff on medication. I had a bad day, Merlin.”

Arthur pouts, hoping it'll get him a kiss. Merlin just yawns and rubs Arthur's chest gently.

“Cooking? Depression isn't unexpected. That's fine. We'll look at the notes on medication tomorrow and you can talk it over with your therapist on Wednesday.”

“I'll tell James, too. He's a good boss.”

Merlin snickers and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a crack about James being Arthur's husband. Arthur squeezes Merlin until Merlin makes a squeaky noise and then puts the other piece of pizza in his mouth. 

“Oh, cooking. Classes. For anorexics and people stupid like me.”

“You're not stupid, just habitual.”

“Meh. I know. Eat, Merlin. Then bed. How was work?”

“Shh. I like this bit. He speaks baby, Arthur. It's stupid.”

“But you like?”

“Shh.”

Arthur smiles. Merlin pretends to hate doctor who but he'll watch the episodes with James Cordon in over and over just like Arthur and Will. They're just so bro-mancy. Just Merlin's thing. Arthur shuts his eyes and yawn again, squeezing Merlin's shoulder to feel the muscle there. He'll get muscles like this soon. He just needs to keep on going. 

“I'm going to go back to college next week. Or the week after at least.”

“They've been good about the time off?”

“Mm. I'll catch up. I've been doing the homework and my tutors are happy enough.”

“Good.”

“You finished?”

“Yeah.”

“Bed?”

“Kay.”

It's Arthur leading Merlin tonight, Arthur who helps Merlin change and Arthur who wraps himself around Merlin. Now he's getting better he needs to start looking out for Merlin as well as Merlin looking out for him. Time to start giving Merlin back some of the care he's given Arthur. 

Arthur runs most mornings, jogging half asleep in the park or joining the college kid who's Merlin's neighbour. Because Arthur does evening classes they never met at college, but the guy's okay. Young. Very young. Younger than Arthur ever has been. But okay. Good to run with. He also takes the steps at therapy and college and work. He talks to James and his therapist.

“...Merlin's sleeping better. I'm better at not waking him when I dream...”

He goes to the cooking class on Sunday morning and it's nerve wracking, but everyone's nice enough and in the end Arthur has fun. He has a bench mate called Ethan who's friendly as long as you don't mention his eating habits. He gets mean then. 

“...it's getting easier to eat. Soon I'll be fat. Someone kicked me in the stomach once and I couldn't eat without puking for a week. That was scary...”

Arthur cooks the things he learns in class for Merlin. Or he tries at least. A lot of the time they end up laughing and disengaging the smoke alarm before calling for take out.

“...I had a bad day at work today. I had to deal with a street seller who wasn't doing very well. She's really sick but won't go to the hospital. Just because she's fed up with the place because she's always in and out and they always just put her back on the streets. It made me remember being afraid to go get help, choking on my breath...”

He starts coughing again as winter draws in and Will starts driving him around between work, college, cooking and therapy. He always beeps his horn and is very impatient, but they argue Doctor Who and eat things Merlin would disapprove of and generally try and wind Merlin up. It's fun.

“...I keep thinking about my mother. I keep seeing her face. I forgot to miss them, when I ran away. She was so soft and beautiful and she looked at me like I held the world. I wish I could talk to her. Just go and sit in her kitchen and talk...”

Arthur runs. He plays football. He realises, as his cough fades again, that Will makes him eat a lot. So he keeps on hanging out with Will, feeling a bit guilty for using the guy. It's good fun though. They go out with Gwaine and get drunk and eat until they can't move at an all you can eat buffet. They go to Cardiff on a whim and look round the doctor Who set with Lance and Lance keeps fretting about Gwen and the baby, which Arthur missed the birth of and hasn't met yet. They eat chips and salad and mock Lance.

Arthur wakes suddenly. The room is dark and his therapist has gone. There's something wrong, the room's too cold and too dark even for how late it is. Arthur gets up and goes to peer out of the curtain but before he gets halfway across the floor the door opens and someone who Arthur vaguely recognises slips inside. Big ears, bright eyes, beautiful grin. 

“Doctor Alice said you charged a tenner?”

“What? Are you her secretary? I've already made an appointment. It's the same very week.”

“Nope. Here, I'll leave it on the table. Money first, yeah? That's how whores like it.”

“I'm not... I don't... what?”

The man just smiles and reaches down, unzipping his jeans and stepping out of them. He's wearing a pair of Arthur's boxers for some reason and he's hard. Arthur frowns. 

“I'm not a whore. I don't.”

“Come on, Alice told me. I paid my tenner, now suck it boy.”

“I don't... I don't...”

“No one'll know. No one cares about you. Come on.”

Arthur nods. No one cares. Bright blue eyes meet his as he kneels.

“That's a good boy. You like doing this, don't you? Only someone who liked it would charge so little. Not worth much more though, are you? Alice said you thought about charging more, but she managed to persuade you you weren't worth it. We laughed about that.”

Arthur closes his eyes and tries to picture his beech. 

“Arthur.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Come on, wake up Arthur. That's it.”

Arthur opens his eyes and the man with bright blue eyes look softer here, he's smiling but he looks worried. Arthur looks down and the boxers are still the same. He reaches down. The man's paid, after all. 

“Hey, what are you doing? Are you... stop, hey. Stop it Arthur.”

“You paid.”

“No, no. It was a dream. Arthur, come on. Are you with me?”

Arthur shrugs. He shuts his eyes. If the man doesn't want it, that's fine. 

“Arthur. It's me, it's Merlin.”

Merlin. Arthur gasps a breath, everything coming back to him. He laughs, high pitched and odd sounding. Merlin. Merlin. Of course. Just a dream. Why was Merlin there, though, paying? Why did he dream these things? He laughs and laughs.

“Stop it. That's enough.”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

“It's all right. That's better. Are you with me?”

“Yeah, yeah. You were still wearing my boxers, even though I didn't know you. Alice told you about me. That I was cheap.”

“You're not cheap. I don't know that there's anything I wouldn't pay for you, Arthur.”

“Mm.”

Arthur's already drifting off again. The dreams don't stick around so long anymore, this one's already fading. He doesn't really remember. What happened? He pulls Merlin into his arms and mouths at his neck, manhandling him until he's pressed to Arthur's chest. Merlin laughs and pats a hand over Arthur's heart and then they sleep again. 

Arthur wakes to far too much light and a far too cheery Merlin. He forces himself out of bed to run but it's Sunday and that's his day off from his run and he hates mornings and right now he hates Merlin a little bit. He throws a pillow at him and tries to go back to sleep, but Merlin yanks the covers off. 

“Mmph! G'way! Don't hafta get up till cooking. S'later.”

 

“Nope, up. We're going to see Lance and Gwen and Tom.”

“Tom?”

“The baby, Arthur. The one you've been avoiding meeting.”

Oh. That Tom. 

“Haven't been avoiding.”

[“...homeless people can't be trusted with babies, Alice, what if they don't let me hold him...”  
“... I don't trust myself with such a fragile thing. I've seen photos...”  
“...What if he doesn't like me? What if he finds out the things I've done...”  
“...I don't think he should be exposed to Val and Myror and my life as it was. One day it'll catch up and I don't want him caught in it...”]

“I'm not stupid. Up!”

Arthur gets up and goes to shower, mostly to avoid Merlin's stupid intuitiveness about things. Merlin makes him breakfast and makes him get properly dressed not Sunday dressed and then they're out on the street. And Merlin makes him walk instead of getting the bus like they used to. Apparently if Arthur can run three miles a day he can walk the half mile to Lance and Gwen's house. He grumbles all the way and starts a bad tempered shoving match that ends up with Merlin in the road because Arthur forgets he's not quite a wisp anymore. 

Gwen answers the door looking frazzled, hair fuzzy and standing out all over the place. Arthur laughs which earns him a glare which he ignores. He bounds up the steps and into the house, calling for Lance. He's suddenly feeling alert and awake and restless. He steps into the living room but Lance isn't there. 

“Kitchen, Arthur!”

Arthur jogs through grinning and there's Lance, a tea towel over his shoulder, a crying baby in the crook of one arm, looking as frazzled as Gwen. As soon as Arthur's there Lance breathes a sigh of relief and then all of a sudden Arthur's holding Tom, his arms uncertain but guided by Lance and then he's sitting, looking down into Tom's brown eyes and running a finger over his almond skin. Tom's looking back with equal fascination, probably caught by Arthur's hair. 

“Arthur? Are you-”

“Shh. I am not taking that devil spawn back from him. Don't break the spell. If either of them start crying, you deal. Gwen, living room. Now.”

Arthur ignores the babble and sits, quiet and still, letting Tom play with his hair, hold onto his finger, tug at the buttons on his shirt. He's seen pictures but pictures just show a baby. In person Tom is... different. He's a whole person, bold and curious and irritable. Arthur likes that. Irritation is a good quality. 

“Don't you listen to your parents. You bawl if you want to. That's right, they're just silly. Bawling's a lovely way to express yourself, isn't it Tommy?”

Tom opens his mouth and yawns and Arthur, who never understood the big deal about babies, suddenly wants one of his own. He bites his lip and raises a knee to cradle the little body, sliding a cushion from the chair into the crook of his knee so he can rest Tom there and bounce him a little. Tom's eyes slide closed and his eyelids are so clear and so...

“You're just a fragile little thing, aren't you? I was like you. But then I ran and played footie and now I'm growing bigger. We'll make sure you eat lots and run lots and you can play with me and your Pappa and we'll make sure you grow and grow and grow until you're big as Percy.”

“Oh please no. He's hard enough to deal with that little. As big as Percy? Can't he just get as big as Merlin? Merlin's a good size.”

“Ignore your Pappa Tommy. Big as Percy. That's the way to go, eh?”

Arthur smiles as Tom smacks his lips and his hands fist, mouth opening to snuffle and snore. 

“He's asleep. Thank God. You are baby sitting for us with that magic. He's a bawler, aren't you boyo?”

Lance lifts Tom and Arthur almost reaches to take him back, missing the warm little body. He looks at the empty cushion and presses down the anger. They have time. He has time. He smiles again, imagining him and Merlin one day with a whole brood in a big house with a huge garden and a pond and ducks. 

“We'll have pet ducks.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. He's gorgeous.”

“I did try to tell you. Here Gwen, you take him.”

“Why?”

“Because I took him this morning.”

Arthur watches Gwen carry Tom away and smiles at Lance when he sits, looking around for Merlin. He's standing outside, coat on, looking out over the garden. Arthur frowns.

“Leave him Arthur. He likes the quiet out there. He's all right.”

“What? What's wrong? Why don't I know? Does he come here?”

“Mm. He stands and holds Tom and doesn't say much. I think he's just dealing with the dreams you have about him.”

“You know about those?”

“Just that you have them. Alternate versions of him that aren't always good.”

“I don't... it's not him. I love him. I... it's more than just... I don't...”

“Hey, it's fine. He just comes for the quiet, like you need to be alone sometimes. You need to have separate lives sometimes. Even Gwen and I have our time apart.”

“Oh. So it's okay?”

“Yes. Sometimes I forget that in a lot of ways you really are only just nineteen. It's fine, Arthur. You ever need to talk I'm here. About this, about relationships.”

“Yeah I know. I just feel like I'm not getting anywhere sometimes Lance, and until I get somewhere I can't be a good partner for him. I want to do my A-levels, start a degree, get on with life. But I'm still having nightmares and making his life hard and-”

Lance tugs Arthur to his feet and pulls him into the hall. Arthur tries to protest but Lance whispers that Tom's sleeping so no noise. Arthur's pretty sure that's an excuse, but lets it go. Lance puts him in front of the full length mirror and presses a hand to Arthur's stomach. 

“Look at yourself, Arthur.”

“What?”

Lance grins and puts his hands around Arthur's waist. There's a lot of space between his fingers. Percy used to be able to fit both hands around Arthur's waist with no space. Oh. Arthur looks at himself. Not in the distracted way he does in the morning when shaving or the glimpses in windows but really looks. He's not a skinny wisp any more. His chest is muscled and his shoulders are broad. His stomach is lightly curved outwards. He looks like a grown up. His face is full and though he looks tired he looks...

“I look well.”

“Yes. You're doing fine, Arthur. And you have your exams next week, then you just have to decide on a degree and if you do full time or part time. What do you want to study?”

“I don't know. I want to do something where I can... business. I'm going to do business studies and start up a business that gets homeless people into work.”

“Yeah?”

“I'm going to start a café and we'll do training and they can work there and I'll put in a shower so they'll be clean. They can work towards food hygiene certificates and get experience of a work place. And I'll open a studio. For art. Where homeless people can come and draw safely and share ideas and do collaborations and learn about available courses.”

“See? You're doing fine.”

“I want... I want to start a place for people who've had to... a safe place where...”

“Like a support group?”

“Where people can get checked out in a safe place and rest if they're hurt and get counselling, or have someone to talk to. Yeah.”

“You have a lot of ideas.”

“I do. I'm going to go find Merlin.”

“Okay. Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

“I meant it about baby sitting. You're good with him.”

Arthur feels a bit dizzy with everything. He's being trusted with a little life, with something so fragile and pliable and he isn't sure he deserves that kind of trust. He remembers Lance's locked bedroom door, remembers sitting on the street and Lance sighing as he has to walk away, remembers in the hospital when Lance was crying and throwing things and cross with himself. 

“Maybe. Not alone at first.”

“Okay.”

Arthur nods and goes to find Merlin. To stand with him in the quiet and wrap and arm around him and ruffle his hair. He's bigger than Merlin now. Not taller, but bulkier. More muscle. He might not be stronger. Maybe. He tries to subtly lift Merlin off his feet and Merlin laughs, nuzzling into Arthur's neck. Arthur turns Merlin's head by the chin, gently, so he can kiss him. He hardly ever initiates these kinds of kisses, but today he just wants to kiss Merlin so he does. He kisses him and holds onto him and reassures him without words. And then mocks him until Merlin laughs again and then calls him a girl which Gwen over hears, which means they have to leave in a hurry before she whacks them for using that as an insult. They still get a lecture on not using it as an insult in front of Tom and they run out of the front door, pushing each other and laughing.


	6. an end, of sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the story. Will Leon, Arthur, Merlin, Henrietta and all the other's live happily ever after? Read to see. 
> 
> A sort of wrapping up. I'm sorry for this, I'm not quite happy with it but I reckon you've waited long enough. So here it is. I will edit it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: grief, past homelessness, nothing too graphic in this part. mostly grief.

Merlin gets in, expecting the normal empty flat. Arthur usually rings ahead. He struggles with the locks and the stairs and the truly horrendous amount of shopping. Which is all Arthur's fault. Apparently now he knows what he can eat he has endless requests. Also, apparently Merlin has to do the shopping for all the things Arthur really really wants but can't persuade himself he has the money for. Even though he totally does have the money. Because James is a sucker and pays him... Merlin stops his thought process before he implodes and finally pushes open the door. 

“Oh, hey Merlin.”

Merlin drops all the bags just inside the hall and kicks the door shut, leaning on it. 

“Good. You can carry your horribly heavy snacks into the kitchen.”

“Your shopping, your kitchen.”

“Come on, help a poor soul.”

“Nope! I'm being selfish and lazy.”

Merlin laughs and decides the bags can wait, because Arthur is indeed being lazy. In his boxers. On the sofa. Sprawled and glorious and grinning like a lunatic and so, so healthy and happy and lovely. So Merlin goes and lies on top of him, kicking of his shoes and shucking his jeans. They lie nose to nose, kissing eagerly and sloppily (Arthur's definitely fully in 'lazy' mode).

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Surprise!”

“A nice surprise. How was uni?”

“Boring. Very. It's fun, though, being a scholar.”

“How much work do you have this weekend?”

“Not a lot. Why? Do you have fun, surprise plans?”

“No. Maybe we could go visit Mum?”

“Nah. I love your Mum, but lets... Merlin, can we... Oh bugger. I want to go home. Apparently the house belongs to me along with the money my parents left. I want to go back.”

“Are you sure?”

“There are some good memories there, too. Baking with Mum. Well, she'd bake and I'd stick my fingers in stuff and lick the bowls. Dad used to play with me, when I was younger we'd go cushion surfing in the giant hallways. And then later he taught me how to play indoor football without alerting Mum. When I was old enough to lie convincingly about it.”

“Okay. I'd like that, to see where you grew up.”

“And maybe we could meet Leon and Het?”

“Yes. Okay.”

“Okay. I'll ring the estate agent to let her know we'll be staying at the house. I have to decide whether to leave it on the market or not.”

“Right. Is it liveable in? I mean, has it been kept up?”

“Think so. Can you ring Het?”

Merlin, now standing behind the sofa with Arthur looking up at him, head back on the cushions, upside down, threads a hand through Arthur's hair and pauses to gently soothe it at the temples. 

“I can. If you want.”

“Mm. I'm tired. Bit washed out.”

“Okay. I'll put the shopping away and you can watch me make macaroni cheese.”

Arthur smiles and reaches up to tug at Merlin until he bent so they could kiss hello. Then he let Merlin struggle with the bags, laughing when one split. Merlin curses him playfully but doesn't complain too much because Arthur's moving slowly. He's fatter, muscular, healthy and he doesn't catch every sniffle and cough any more but he still gets tired. Merlin thinks it's probably the depression more then anything physical. 

Whatever it is he leaves Arthur to sit on the counter and direct while he puts everything away and picks up what's spilt, obeying most of Arthur's instructions especially when they include things like-

“And put the beans in the bottom cupboard and then come kiss me.”

-eventually he gets it put away and the food in the oven, vegetables gently steaming, and he can go stand between Arthur's legs and let Arthur wrap his arms round Merlin's back loosely. 

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“Long day?”

“Mm. Was. Very long.”

“How're you doing with the work load?”

“Okay for now. I'm up with the reading. I keep losing focus, though.”

“I know. Don't worry about it, just keep on trying. There's no pressure, take your time.”

“I want to succeed, Merlin. Failing isn't on my agenda.”

“Because you're a poncey arse. Failure is part of life.”

“Not mine.”

“No, maybe not.”

Merlin thinks of Arthur determinedly not going further then 'hands and mouth', selling magazines in rain and shine, working himself to death to get off the streets, getting his a-levels, working and volunteering and working at their relationship...

“No. You don't want to fail, do you? You've already done... I wish you saw what I see, Arthur.”

“A sexy man with lots of magnetism, very clever, great strategist, brilliant-”

“Big headed prat.”

“You want me to see... a big headed prat.”

Merlin laughs and kisses Arthur to shut him up. 

They head down on Friday. Arthur sleeps against the car window, breath fogging the glass, innocent in sleep and so young. Merlin drives in silence, listening to Arthur breathing. Breathing free and east. He still finds himself checking for wheezes, even now Arthur's healthy. Merlin puts the radio on somewhere in the middle of nowhere to shut up his thoughts. He flicks through until he gets something bearable and quiet, relaxing with the background accompaniment. 

Somewhere on the motorway a Jag cuts Merlin off, grazing his head lights as he nips in front and across to turn off. Merlin swerves onto the hard shoulder, thumping his fist on the broken horn. It poops it's pathetic high shriek forlornly and Arthur blinks awake, hand going to Merlin's knee.

“What's wrong.”

“Nothing. Stupid fuck.”

“You're shaking.”

“I'm not.”

He is. Merlin didn't notice it until Arthur said it, but now he can feel it. Fine trembles in his arms and legs. 

“Shit.”

Arthur laughs and squeezes his knee. 

“Idiot. What happened?”

“Someone cut me off. Thought he was gonna hit me. Thus the hard shoulder halt.”

“Did he have a nice car?”

Arthur cranes his neck, peering through the front wind shield to try and spot it. Merlin hits whacks his hand, ignoring the smirk. 

“Better?”

“Thanks.”

“Want me to drive?”

“Please.”

“Can we not listen to Paloma Faith?”

Merlin hadn't realised they were. He climbs out of the car and walks around to the passenger side on slightly wobbly legs, tucking himself into the pocket of warmth Arthur's left. He watches smiling as Arthur adjusts everything efficiently and seriously before pulling out neatly with a perfect economy of movement, the perfect safety checks. Once they're at a cruising speed (within the limit) Arthur pulls a CD out of the door and puts it in.

“Where did that come from?”

“The side pocket.”

Merlin can't help laughing at Arthur's deadpan, and Arthur throws him a brief smirk but otherwise doesn't break his serious façade. Merlin lets himself drift to the sound of something classical and poncy. He watches the light, softening with evening, light Arthur's hair, the way Arthur moves, the careful, serious checks as he pulls out to over take, everything so controlled. Watches Arthur. 

He must drift off because one second Arthur's smiling at him, the next it's pretty much dark and Arthur's stood by the open car door, a hand on Merlin's shoulder, talking to someone. Merlin doesn't know who in his sleep fuzziness. All he can see is knees, ankles, shoes. He undoes his buckle and climbs out, Arthur's hand automatically moving to his elbow and then the small of his back, his head turning to acknowledge Merlin. 

“...we'll bring the keys back on Sunday evening.”

“As long as you need, Mr Pendragon. I remember your mother.”

“Yes, well. So do I. Thank you for looking after the house and for meeting us out here.”

“Yes, yes. Of course you do. I didn't mean...”

“I apologise. I spoke sharply out of fatigue. It was ungracious. I'm glad to hear that you remember my mother with fondness.”

“I do. Very much. She was a very unique and lovely lady. She had such a way with children. But of course you know that, and you're tired.”

“Yes. Thank you. We'll not keep you away from home any longer.”

“You just make yourselves at home, and call if you need anything. My boys are off at university and we're missing them something fierce, we'd be glad... well. See you on Sunday. Enjoy your stay.”

Merlin waves a bit dopeily as the woman hurries away, flustered and embarrassed. He nudges Arthur.

“You should be nicer.”

“You should be more awake, then you can be nice and I don't have to be. Get the bags.”

Merlin makes a noise of incredulity, but Arthur's already off across the huge driveway and Merlin has to grab the bags and hurry to catch up, tripping on the loose pebbles. He also trips on a sudden step, but Arthur catches him and takes the bags with an impatient tug. Merlin follows his stiff back meekly, looking about at the dark trying to see. 

There's a fumbling of keys and then the sounds of Arthur tripping, the bags thudding down and then sudden blinding light flooding out of a big front door. Merlin stumbles inside and squints. The entry way is impressive. An open space, wooden floor, windows all along the front with cream curtains. 

“Shoes off. You won't be cold, Mrs Kinney put the underfloor heating on.”

Arthur steps neatly out of his trainers and stows them in one of the cubby holes that line the wall space under the curtained windows. Merlin follows suit and then waits, but Arthur seems to be done. He's just standing, looking at the wall. Merlin looks around. There's a door opposite which he assumes leads to the house proper. Another door, to the left, is probably the stairs from what Arthur and Leon and Het have said about the house. Merlin picks up the bags, transferring them to one hand, takes Arthur's elbow and chivvys them to the left hand door. 

“Come on. Let's find somewhere to sleep.”

“I'm hungry.”

“Are you? Good. Let's find a bedroom, then the kitchen.”

“Okay.”

Merlin mentally thanks Mrs Kinney for taking down any photographs. He does find stairs behind the door, to his relief, and Arthur flicks on more lights as he trails docilely after Merlin. The stairs are wooden, private without being narrow and twist at the top so you can't see the upstairs from below. They come out onto a square landing with two doors leading off. Arthur pauses. 

“Okay?”

“That's where Mum and Dad... their rooms are that door. Mine are this way.”

Arthur takes the lead, through the second door. Merlin imagines Agravain took over Ygrain and Uther's rooms and feels an odd echo of heartbreak for Arthur at that thought, Agravain's presence slowly eradicating them from the spaces they used to inhabit. Arthur pads onwards doggedly, leading Merlin to a blue painted door at the far end of a long corridor. 

“Spare rooms and bathrooms, a small library of children-appropriate books. That door connects to a living room. We did a lot of entertaining, business partners, gold buddies, school chums, government ministers. Downstairs was a show, a careful construct. This was our place.”

Arthur doesn't touch the door. He opens the blue one, then shuts it again and turns to one of the plainer ones to flick on a light. It's obviously a guest room, impersonal. It's made up and Merlin thanks Mrs Kinney again. He might have to talk Arthur into paying her more. Although, it must be the estate that pays her at the moment. 

“Merlin.”

“Mm?”

“I...”

Merlin nods and puts the bags down, carefully helping Arthur out of his coat and outer layers. When he's down to his boxers Merlin sits him on the bed and rummages, then re-dresses him in warm pyjamas (from Hunith, now fitting properly no draw string needed) and woollen socks, an old hoody of Merlin's. Arthur shuts his eyes and leans into Merlin's hands as he works, tired lines relaxing. 

“Let me help you, okay? You just let it go. I'll hold on for the both of us.”

“Okay. I miss them, Merlin.”

“I know.”

“It feels like it did then, all over again.”

“No it doesn't. You don't have to feel alone now, do you?”

“No.”

“And you're not helpless.”

“No.”

“And you've made peace with it. You just miss them. Grief never goes away, we just learn to live with it.”

“I don't wish they hadn't... is that bad?”

“No, you can feel whatever you feel. I won't judge you.”

“Iwouldn'thaveyou. Shall we find food? Mrs Kinney probably left something.”

“She needs a raise. I thought you didn't know her, did you?”

“Nope. She said she wanted to spoil us, though. She misses her boys. It's psychology.”

Merlin laughs and pushes Arthur onto the bed for being a prat. Then pulls on his own woollen socks. Suddenly Arthur leaps up and runs past, laughing wildly, pushing Merlin over and taking off, crashing into the wall and bouncing down the corridor. Merlin follows at a more sedate pace. Arthur's mood changes are tiring. He steps off the stairs and immediately has to jump backwards, tripping and sitting suddenly on the step as Arthur slides past at a great rate on his socks. 

“The floor's been polished, then.”

“Yeah! Have a go!”

“No thanks. I think I'll keep my bones in tact. I'll go cook something, shall I?”

“Yes, food. Food is good.”

Arthur follows on Merlin's heels (literally. He steps on the slightly baggy heels of Merlin's socks with his toes) and watches carefully as Merlin heats up the soup that Mrs Kinney has indeed left. There are also sandwiches ready to be grilled, the squisher all set up, so dinner takes about five minutes. They eat in silence at the dining room table by a bay window, Arthur growing still and brooding. He heads up to bed and leaves Merlin to the dishes when they're done.

Merlin rinses the plates and bowls, then leaves them in a sink of warm water. He'll do them later. Or tomorrow. Or never, you know. He goes to the foot of the stairs, meaning to head up, but pauses with his foot on the bottom step. He shuts his eyes and just stands there, frozen. He's tired, too. As tired as Arthur. He works as hard. He wanted to see his Mum this weekend, his first weekend completely off in a while. But, Arthur had needed.

As Merlin makes his way round the house he lets himself drift. Arthur needs him sometimes. But Merlin needs Arthur, too. Needs him to be there when he gets home sometimes, needs to see him to make sure he's okay, need Arthur's reassurance, needs Arthur's hugs, Arthur's kisses. Needs to see Arthur do silly things like sliding about on his socks. Needs Arthur to listen. Needs needs needs. And Arthur's always been there. 

Merlin wonders who taught Arthur to consider other people. Was it his mother, his father, the life he's lead? Possibly. There's a fair amount of obliviousness with Arthur, too. Maybe from being loved and a bit spoilt by his parents. Merlin imagines they probably doted on him rather a lot. He gets to the back of the house and looks around. There's a foot bath and it's still light enough to see so he heads down, hands in his pockets for warmth. 

The garden is not a garden. It's land. A park, a lake at the bottom, a hedge. Merlin heads for an opening in the hedge and pushes through. He finds himself in a flower garden, flower heads shut as the sun sinks. He takes a deep breath in and stands for while, not thinking. He doesn't think about a little Arthur toddling after his mother here, playing football with his Dad, hand in hand with Leon, picnicing in the summer, hair bright blonde. 

He sighs. Arthur's parents' death is a new thing for them. It's not the cold fear or loneliness of the homeless time, the nightmares and self uncertainty of lingering bad memories. It's not the hot anger and shame of Agravain. Their death is a new, heavy grief. It's not new for Arthur, he's been holding on to it for years. And now they're face to face with it. The stark space of them, the not-here-ness of the house, the memories creeping. 

Merlin heads back. He suddenly has to be with Arthur, to feel his soft skin, to assure himself that he's not disappearing to be with his mother. He wants to make sure Arthur's okay and not about to leave him alone here with the ghosts. Merlin finds him with his face in a pillow, obviously hiding tears. He leaves him to it and does his teeth. He strips before climbing in behind Arthur and shutting off the lights, pulling until Arthur rests against his chest. He turns and hides his face against Merlin's shoulder instead.

“I'm not crying.”

“Course not. Go to sleep.”

He does, eventually. Merlin waits patiently until his breathing evens then drifts off himself. 

Merlin wakes alone, Arthur's side of the bed cold and empty. He's tired and still sleepy. He hopes Arthur slept some. Rolling and stretching he considers getting up, gets as far as sitting, then flops back down face first, heading back to the land of nod. 

“You're so lazy.”

Merlin smiles as he's enveloped in a damp billow of shower smell, Arthur draping himself over Merlin's back.

“Still sleepy.”

“I've been up for _hours_!”

“Hmm.”

“Not really. Got up about twenty minutes ago. I slept like a sleeping thing.”

Merlin smiles wider as Arthur shifts and gets comfy, wriggling and muttering until he's got an arm round Merlin's chest, then he subsides. They lie quietly for a bit but Merlin's awake now, Arthur's fresh scent waking him up. He rolls, squishing Arthur, and gets to his feet.

“Where are you going?”

“Shower.”

“Spoil sport.”

“Get dressed, Leon and Het are coming over for brunch remember.”

“Grumble grumble.”

Merlin laughs and shuffles through to the shower, yawning widely to get rid of the last vestiges of sleep. He showers quickly, trying not to imagine Arthur wet and lithe and showering. He doesn't have time to imagine Arthur, head back as he enjoyed the warm water, hand running over his body... 

“Arthur!”

“Hnn?”

“Come shower!”

“Wha'?”

Merlin waits for Arthur to wander in, then grabs him and tugs him into the shower. It's not until he's kissed Arthur thoroughly that he realises Arthur's wearing a shirt and boxers. Arthur gives him a bewildered, dazed look, tugging at his waist band.

“Sorry. Come on, get these off.”

“You just told me to get dressed.”

“Well now I'm telling you to get un-dressed.”

“Bossy.”

Arthur gets undressed and stands, arms out, grinning. He's hard and Merlin's hard and everything's good now the clothes have gone. Merlin licks his lips and Arthur's grin fades to lust. Suddenly Merlin's tugged forward into Arthur's solid body, Arthur's hands possesive over his sides and arse. The water washes over them, eternally hot. 

Later they lie, mostly dressed and nearly neat, on the floor of a downstairs room with floor to ceiling windows, bathed in bright sunlight. It's not warm enough to sunbathe outside but with the glass cutting out the wind and the underfloor heating on low the sun warms their shower-damp limbs nicely. 

“Leon and Het are going to arrive to no food.”

“They can deal.”

“Okay.”

Merlin rolls and props himself onto an elbow, poking gently at Arthur's cheek. No longer emaciated, fleshed over and healthily pinked. 

“How're you doing?”

“What?”

“With this house, being here.”

“Fine.”

“Mm.”

“It's... it's nice, to remember them. Sad, but nice.”

Merlin nods. He'll let Arthur keep his memories private for now. He seems better today, no tears, no helplessness, no exhaustion. Merlin nods and runs his hands over Arthur, pausing at the gentle rise of his belly.

“So plump, now.”

“Hey!”

“I love this, all your muscle and blubber and healthy flesh. Not so brittle now, are you?”

“I'll give you blubber!”

Merlin yells as Arthur rolls, pinning him to the carpet and digging his fingers into Merlin's ticklish sides. They roll and tussle for a while, Merlin shrieking with laughter and trying to escape Arthur demonstrating his lack of blubber, but they're interrupted by the door bell and Arthur freezes, tensing all along Merlin's body.

“It's just Hen and Leon.”

“I know. I'm not stupid. Come on.”

Arthur stomps out, Merlin on his heels. He flings open the front door and Merlin can just tell he's scowling, even from behind. He counteracts that with the biggest grin he can dig out. It turns into a real grin when he sees Leon. He's shaggy and big and he looks much happier then Merlin's seen him yet.

“Leon, mate. You look like you swallowed a coat hanger.”

Merlin glances at Arthur, glad to see him smiling too. It's like he can't help it, mouth twitching up at the corners. Merlin links arms with him and rubs his elbow a bit.

“I did not swallow a coat hanger.”

“What happened, then?”

“He is in love.”

“She's lying.”

“He met someone.”

“I didn't. Not that way.”

“What way did you meet someone, then?”

“I met a little girl who needed a home, and I had a home.”

“He's got himself a baby!”

Merlin looks at Arthur who's looking at him. Good, Arthur thinks that's weird too.

“Uh, Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“Aren't you, like, twenty?”

“I'm twenty one. And yes, yes, I see your point. But she needed a home, and I had one. She's only two years old, I could have had her two years ago.”

Merlin can read Arthur, so he knows that Arthur doesn't find it weird now. There's a soft smile on his face and he's looking at Leon. Suddenly he shakes himself and stands aside.

“Come in. Merlin's going to make lunch.”

Arthur pads away, thumb in his waistband, humming to himself. 

“He looks good.”

“So do you, Leon. You really do.”

“I feel it. I hope... Arthur's always wanted children, Merlin.”

“Yeah, I know. We look after a friend's kid. He doesn't talk about it. Don't think he's ready to face it yet. He doesn't even trust himself with Tom.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I shouldn't...”

“No, no. Talk about her. He's fine. He just... isn't there himself yet. Anyway! Come in, lunch.”

“That sounds like you're inviting us to be lunch.”

Het pushes past them, rolling her eyes probably at their boy feelings. Merlin follows but stops, leaning against the wall looking into the living room. Arthur's fidgeting, playing with the throw on the sofa, while Het rants about something. Leon pushes past him and sits in front of Arthur, joining the conversation. Merlin smiles as Arthur relaxes a little bit. He moves off to make lunch.

Merlin watches Arthur the rest of the afternoon, watches him with Leon. It's weird, because Arthur wasn't comfortable with Leon before. They were getting there but Arthur got anxious before. But now he's suddenly easy, laughing and joking and touching. Something's shifted. Merlin waits until the others leave, until he and Arthur are comfy on the sofa, table lamp the only lighting. Arthur's flicking through the tv stations, Merlin's got his feet tucked under Arthur's thigh leaning on the sofa arm. He stretches out, rubbing his stomach to aid digestion.

“Mm. I'm full.”

“You ate like a pig.” 

“What's with Leon? You're all... soft with him now.”

“What on earth are you blibbering about now?”

“Leon! You and Leon. Together. You were all, oh man we used to date and it's awkward, but now it's all oh man we used to be friends and we haven't been at school for ages but it feels like we were at school just yesterday.”

“Uh, okay. Right.”

“Arthur! You know what I mean.”

“Fine, fine. He's different. Before I wasn't sure what he wanted, now he doesn't want anything.”

“Because he has a baby.”

“Yes! Now shut up.”

“Right.”

Merlin wriggles his toes and Arthur jerks. He has ticklish thighs. Merlin laughs and does it again, but reaches out to gentle Arthur afterwards. 

“I think Leon's found something, I think he's found a place in his life where he doesn't want you. So you can be friends.”

“God you're such a girl, Merlin.”

Merlin shifts so he can lean against Arthur's side instead, snuggling in for whatever he chooses from the tv. They end up watching Desperate Housewives, Arthur's arm draped over Merlin like a jock on a date. Merlin thinks it's kind of endearing how young Arthur still is sometimes, even with all the life he's lived. 

Merlin wakes the next morning to Arthur still asleep, which is more usual. Arthur's not a morning person. He rubs the small of Arthur's back, but Arthur doesn't wake. He just snuffles into the pillow. Merlin bites his lip to keep from laughing. He kisses the knobs of Arthur's spine, moving up to his neck and the little bit of sensitive skin behind Arthur's ear. Still nothing. 

He gets up and pads to the doorway, meaning to go wash up and get a glass of water. The door at the end of the hall, the blue one, is lit by the morning sun, dust motes dancing in front of it. Enticing. Merlin opens it and slips inside, shutting it quietly behind him. He listens for the sounds of Arthur waking and coming after him, but nothing. He breathes out and looks around. 

There's a double bed, made up. There are posters up on the walls, Star Wars, Men in Black, Toystory, a newscutting of Nelson Mandela, a scribbled quote by Ghandi. There's a Buzz Lightyear on the shelf along with an old gameboy. A very old computer laptop, chunky and dated, is on the desk. It's not set up, it's unplugged, but it's still there. Merlin goes to run his hand over the DVD collection. Matrix, Evil Dead, Lord of the Rings, Forest Gump. There are a few college text books, three Shakespeare texts, the Mortal Engines series, a few Le Carré's and a collection of Beanos. A book on the middle East.

Merlin goes for the desk, but is sidetracked by the CD rack on the wall. Green day, Slipknot, Rage Against the Machine. Merlin laughs when about half way down the music changes to Elgar, Jaquelin Dupre, I Musici, Jascha Heifetz, Bach concertos. He goes to the desk, opening the draw. He pulls out the book hidden there and flicks it open. 

There are sketches on blank paper, caricatures of people Merlin doesn't recognise, then Tony Blair and Leon, the characters from friends a Yoda. Then the caricatures die out and the sketches become softer, pen replacing pencil, shaded with paint. Some pastel sketches of landscapes, a few bits of scribbling. Merlin smiles and runs his finger over the lines of a self portrait. He knows Arthur likes to draw but he tends to forget that he's actually any good at it. He makes a mental note and puts the book away. 

He sits on the bed for a bit, trying to imagine Arthur in this room. It's not hard, not with the contrasts and inconsistencies, the geeky bits and bobs and proof of interest in the outside world, the big picture. He can see Arthur's restlessness and boyish excitement wrestling with his calmer, more thoughtful side. He glances at the bedside table and his heart clenches as he reaches for the frame.

It's split, on one side there's a beautiful fey woman holding a two year old, a man standing behind them, imposing and scowling but with a gentle, protective hand on the child's arm. The other side is two gangly boys, the same man with an arm around each, the woman holding a football and looking stern. The three boys look gleeful. Merlin puts the frame back. There's another. An older boy with the man and woman either side, all looking out of the frame. The grownups have hands on Arthur, proprietary, shielding, gentle. Holding him proudly. Merlin head back to the bedroom, lying on top of Arthur and kissing his neck.

“Mmph. Merlin?”

“I hope so, or someone's in trouble.”

“Nnn, 'm in trouble?”

“If I'm not me then you are.”

Merlin heaves himself up so he can straddle Arthur's hips. 

“I feel queasy.”

“Huh?”

Merlin bends forward to lick at Arthur's skin.

“I feel sick, Merlin.”

Arthur turns over, dislodging Merlin. He untangles them and sits up, Arthur's words registering. He sighs but tells his dick this morning's a bust and rests his hand on Arthur's side instead.

“Sick?”

“I hate this house. I keep dreaming about them. It's like it's full of dead people.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“No.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“No. I'm tired.”

“Okay. I'm going to go make breakfast, then I'll come pack. We'll put the house on the market.”

“Merlin?”

“You're fine, Arthur. You're dealing with this. You don't need to be okay in this house to be okay.”

“I _know_!”

Merlin lets his hand wander over Arthur's side and hip, but then he gets up and goes downstairs for breakfast. He thinks Arthur probably is okay, but he rings him mother anyway and talks to her for a while. She thinks Arthur's probably okay too. So that's that. In the end it's Arthur who convinces him. Arthur who comes downstairs with a photograph and talks to Merlin, intensely and desperately but he talks. 

He tells Merlin that his mother used to sit at the table here, used to sit and wait for Arthur to get home from school. She'd make him sit for five minutes. He didn't have to talk but he had to sit with her, to take the five minutes she asked. She used, when he was a child, to dance with him. To take his hands in hers and laugh as he bounced about. She'd keep him from falling over, from losing his balance. She used to shout, too, of course. She'd break plates when he upset her. She put clothes pegs on her teeth one Easter to play at being a rabbit. 

He tells Merlin about how he'd watch her with his father, watched her during the day in public where she'd defer to him. Sometimes he thought she was just a doormat, but then he'd see them. After he was supposed to be in bed he'd creep down and watch her go at him, quietly and calmly she'd just wear him down until he gave in. He also saw her subtly influence him, the older he got. The way she'd nudge him to a decision. 

He tells Merlin about the ice cream parties Uther arranged to try and connect with his son after he came out. The awkward ridiculousness of sitting side by side in pyjamas eating ice cream. They weren't allowed to put on a film or the radio, they had to sit and talk, or eat ice cream. So they ate stupid amounts of ice cream and didn't talk. Arthur said that at that point it didn't matter, because they had ice cream and Uther made him feel like he mattered.

He tells Merlin about Uther and how he'd sit silently and glower, but he made sure that Arthur always knew he was loved. He might not always be liked and Uther might not have always made him feel happy, but he never doubted Uther loved him. Not for a second. Not even when Uther was struggling with his homophobia, when Uther couldn't bear to look at him. He always knew. Because Uther would sit in his room on the side of his bed when he though Arthur was sleeping. Because he picked Arthur up from school every day. He went to every game and boasted. When someone called Arthur names Uther went round to the boy's house and had a short sharp conversation. 

And when Arthur's done sifting through the memories he puts the photo in his back pocket and goes to pack their bags. He walks Merlin through the house and gives him a memory from each room. They walk in the garden and Arthur takes his hand, easing the pace until they're wandering. They interweave their fingers and Arthur stops paying attention. They meander until the sun turns cool. Then they get into the car and go home. 

The house doesn't sell for another month. By the time it goes through and the money comes in Arthur's almost forgotten it. He comes by one evening, looking bewildered and a bit freaked out. Merlin lets him in. He's forgotten about the house at this point but he's not overly worried. Sometimes things exhaust Arthur and he turns up on the doorstep feeling lost. 

“All right?”

“I have money, Merlin. Quite a lot.”

“Okay?”

“The house. It sold. I have... I'm quite rich, actually.”

“Oh. Are you... are you okay, with it being gone?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just... I have money. I have a job. I'm getting a degree. Will you live with me? Or I can come live here. Or we could find somewhere new. But, us, together.”

Merlin tries to say yes so Arthur doesn't freak out, but somehow it gets stuck somewhere. Because he's been expecting this, but at the same time he didn't think it would actually happen. That Arthur would feel himself good enough, not yet. But here he is, standing in front of Merlin in the hallways in his-

“Are you in your slippers?”

“Uh, yeah. I got excited. About money. And living... you don't have to, but It thought... and seeing as I'm doing this, I want a baby. Not now. Not now. Not.... sometime, though. A little one. Just a wee one, we could keep her in a drawer. Like, as a crib. I knew someone who did that. Kept her baby in the drawer for a bed. But I have money now, so we wouldn't have to keep her in a drawer.”

“Arthur! Yes, I'll live with you and have babies with you and anything else you can dream up. I'll do it. We'll do it all. Okay? All of it. All your dreams.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, all of them.”

“Even the one where you wear those really tight jeans I know you have? The one's you say don't fit anymore but I think fit just right?”

“Maybe.”

“the one where-”

“We'll consider those kinds of dreams. We will. But right now, yes I'll live with you. Yes, I'll be rich with you and yes, yes yes we'll have a little child one day.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Because I did something stupid.”

“What?”

“Well, I had all this money, and you know that flat we were at for that party with the people neither of us were quite sure how or who we knew?”

“Yeah, I remember. With the gorgeous windows and office space.”

“Well, it had a to rent sign. And I kind of signed a contract. Or a thing that's like a contract, that means we agree to take it.”

“You... the rent...”

“Is reasonable. It's about twice the rent here. Which we can afford.”

“Really? Because I don't get paid a lot and neither do you.”

“we can afford it. I know we can. I wanted it.”

“the deposit-”

“Merlin, with the money from the house I can afford to pay six years of rent up front and still have left overs.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. My Dad always made solid investments. Also, apparently I have shares in his company that have just been acrueing interest in my bank account for years and years. I'm really rather rich, it turns out.”

“Okay. So you're rich. We're rich? Share and share alike?”

Merlin laughs but Arthur doesn't. Suddenly he shifts and just like that Merlin can see why James pampers him so much, why Lance picked him out of a crowd of lost souls, why Percy kept on coming back for him, why he, Merlin, asked a stranger to accompany him to a death bed. When Arthur gathers himself and calms, still and certain in himself, he's powerful. His presence demands attention. 

“Merlin, you shared in my poverty. And before that you shared in my helplessness. You don't have to joke about it, you'll always have everything I have. Share and share alike, as you say.”

Short and to the point. A summing up of the simple way Arthur sees things. Merlin loves that about him. He pulls Arthur into the flat, pulls him until he stumbles out of his power and into himself, into Arthur. A bumbling, sweet man. All Merlin's. Every inch of him. Merlin tugs and shuts the door on the world, tugs and brings Arthur within kissing distance. 

And then, of course, he kisses him. Warmth and affection and experience of one another passes between them and the future opens up.


End file.
